Perilous Plights
by SpecialAgentWho13
Summary: A strange case unites Team Bones and Team NCIS. As they struggle to capture a ruthless killer, will the teams be able to keep it together? And what happens when the killer changes tactics and kidnaps two of their own?
1. Chapter 1: The Tree on the Trail

*PLEASE READ* Okay so in this story, a couple things: For the Bones side of things- There is no Hannah anymore, she and Booth broke up and it has been... let's say two months. Also, Angela is going to be about six months pregnant in this fic. Now for the NCIS side, everything is pretty much the same except that Ziva's Miami mystery man (whom I would really like to see sometime soon) does not exist. Also, for those of you that are really into the details, Agent Cassie Yates does not exist either, as she is portrayed by Tamara Taylor, a.k.a Dr. Camille Saroyan on Bones. And that's about it. If anything else different pops up as this story moves along I will be sure to let you guys know. I'd like to thank you guys for reading this ahead of time and also mention that (disclaimer) I do not Bones or NCIS, they belong to Fox and CBS, respectively. Please remember this because I really don't feel like putting up a disclaimer every time I post a chapter. Anyway, thanks again and enjoy the story!

P.S. For those of you reading my other in-progress fics and even those who aren't, I'm not very good at updating once I start stories but I promise that by the end of this summer (when I've had time to write) they will all be complete (or the multi-chapter ones that should actually have an ending will, anyway). Sorry and thank you for reading.

WARNINGS: (Don't like, don't read. Do like, please enjoy!) There will be some common pairings and some obvious ones in this fic: Tiva, BB, Hodgela (duh, since they're married), maybe a teensy bit of Sweets/Daisy if I feel like it or if the majority of my readers would like to see it, and some McAbby if you squint (probably only as much as you see in the show). Rated T for swearing, violence, and the usual relationship stuff (kissing, etc.). And that about wraps up this awfully long author's note. If you stuck with me through all of this, then kudos to you. Now, finally, enjoy the first chapter! ;)

~NZA

Chapter 1: The Tree on the Trail

"Remind me again why I agreed to come hiking with you." Kyle pushed a branch out of his face as he followed his best friend up the path.

"Because you knew it would be awesome," Dylan replied.

"Awesome my ass. Is this even a real trail?"

"Of course it is, man, don't be such a city slicker. See, look, there's the stream I was telling you about." Dylan pointed towards a break in the trees to their left where a small stream, almost a river, could be seen rushing through the woods.

"C'mon, Kyle, you have to admit, it's pretty cool up here; away from all the honking cars and pollution and big buildings."

"Yeah, okay. It is kinda peaceful I suppose." Kyle grimaced as the wind blew around them, rustling the leaves. "But I don't know about that 'no pollution' thing, ugh, do you smell that?"

Dylan sniffed the air. "I almost feel like I'm back in Eagle Scouts again," he commented with a slight grin. It quickly disappeared when the wind blew again and he noticed the smell as well. "Gross, yeah, I smell it now. C'mon, let's go check it out." He began trudging through the brush in the direction the smell had come from.

"Hey, it's probably just a dead animal or something. Y'know, we should head back anyway, it's getting kind of late." Despite his complaints, Kyle followed after him. _The things I do for friends_, he thought to himself.

As he stepped out of the brush, Kyle ran smack into Dylan. "Hey, man, what-" Looking up, he noticed what had stopped his friend cold and had also caused that awful smell, stronger now that they were closer to its source.

Hanging by ropes from the branches of a large oak tree were five bodies, twisting in the breeze.


	2. Chapter 2: The Introduction in the Woods

Well, here's chapter two. Sorry one was so short. This chapter is officialy the longest one I've ever written for any of my stories. I'm very proud of myself. So anyway, please read, review, and enjoy! :)

~NZA

* * *

Chapter 2: The Introduction in the Woods

"Gear up! Got five bodies in the woods." Gibbs snatched up his keys, badge, and gun as he walked briskly past his desk and toward the elevators.

Tony, McGee, and Ziva quickly grabbed their things and ran after him.

"What do the bodies have to do with the Navy, boss?"

"One of them had dog tags, DiNozzo. Got any more stupid questions?" McGee and Ziva smirked.

"No, boss."

"Good," Gibbs said, smacking the younger agent's head. "Call Ducky and tell him where we're going."

"On it, boss."

* * *

Booth rapped his knuckles on the doorframe at the entrance to Brennan's office.

"C'mon, Bones! We have a case!" She looked up and he gave her one of his charming grins.

"Okay." She stood, putting down the files she had been perusing. "What's the case, Booth?" Brennan asked, grabbing her things and following him out the door.

"Five bodies hanging in an oak tree in the woods. But we got called in by NCIS, so we have to share jurisdiction with them, unfortunately."

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service? Why?"

"Because technically, it's their case, Bones. One of the bodies had dog tags on it or something. We've just been called in to assist. Or you have, but where you go, I go," Booth said with a smile.

Brennan pouted. "Booth, you know I don't like sharing bones."

"I know, Bones. But hey, maybe it'll be fun, y'know? Jeffersonian/FBI versus NCIS: Who can solve it first? Now hop in," he said, getting into his car.

* * *

"Booth, how much farther?"

"Not far, Bones," Booth replied, holding a branch out of the way for her.

Finally, they stepped into the small clearing where the NCIS Medical Examiner and a younger man, probably his assistant, were taking down the bodies. Three of which, Brennan noticed, were completely skeletonized saved for the bits here and there keeping the bones together, one nearly so, and the other relatively fresh. It couldn't have been there more than two weeks.

Before she had time to determine more, a silver-haired man stepped into their line of sight.

"You the anthropologist and the FBI agent?" he asked.

"Yep." Booth stuck out his hand for the older man to shake. "Agent Seeley Booth. This here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan. She's the forensic anthropologist from the Jeffersonian."

The man shook his hand, then Brennan's. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Lemme introduce you to my team." He led them over to the nearest agent, who was on his haunches collecting some evidence with a pair of tweezers. He stood when he noticed them approach.

"This is Special Agent McGee."

"Tim." The young man stuck out his hand, realized it was still gloved, and then retracted it, giving each of them a nod and a smile instead. Booth introduced himself and Brennan again.

"Almost done, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, boss. Just a few more things and then I'll pack it up."

With a nod, Gibbs walked away, Brennan and Booth following closely. The next agent had a camera around his neck and a sketch pad and pencil in his hands. He was older than the last one but still younger than Gibbs.

"Hi. Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo." DiNozzo smiled and proffered his hand, shaking first Brennan's, then Booth's.

"Agent Booth. This here's my parnter," Booth put a bit of unnecessary stress on the term 'partner' but it seemed to go unnoticed by all of them, "Dr. Brennan."

"Nice to meet you," Tony said with another grin directed in Brennan's direction. It quickly disappeared when Gibbs smacked his head.

"Get back to work, DiNozzo."

"Right away, boss!"

Gibbs then led them toward a woman in an NCIS cap and jacket talking to a park ranger and two frightened teenage boys. She, too, held a note pad and pencil in her hands. As they drew nearer, they could hear her accented voice as she addressed the three in front of her.

"If you remember anything else," she withdrew a business card from her pocket and handed it to one of the boys, "call us." Both kids nodded and followed the ranger as he led them back down the trail.

The woman heard their approach and turned on a heel to face them, making eye contact with Gibbs. "Gibbs. The boys that found the bodies were Kyle Tate and Dylan Wong, both seventeen. Wong says he has been up this way before but this is the first time he has noticed the bodies. The park ranger was the first on the scene after the boys went for help. He says there have not been any recent disturbances reported in the area but about a year ago, he got called in to follow up on a phone call about someone strange seen in area. Nothing panned out. That is all they could tell me."

"Fine." Gibbs nodded. "Ziva, this is Agent Booth, FBI, and Dr. Brennan from the Jeffersonian." Addressing Booth and Brennan, he said, "Special Agent David."

Ziva smiled and shook their hands. Booth gave her a brief once-over. She was very attractive, obviously not originally from America. He was about to ask when Brennan beat him to it.

"I noticed your accent, Agent David," she stated. "Israeli, isn't it?"

"Yes," Ziva confirmed. "How did you know?"

"I spent some time on an archaeological dig there two years ago. As you can probably imagine, many of the people I worked with there were Israeli. It's a beautiful country."

"It is." With a small smile and a nod at Gibbs, Ziva excused herself and went to update DiNozzo and McGee, who were both just finishing up.

Brennan turned to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs, I feel it would be best if all of the bodies and evidence were sent to the Jeffersonian for further analysis. After all, our facility and equipment are top of the line. Your Medical Examiner and forensic specialist can work from there in collaboration with my colleagues and myself. Maybe Booth could follow you and your agents back to NCIS to do whatever is needed there and we can reconvene at the Jeffersonian before lunch to discuss any findings on the case."

Gibbs nodded. "Works for me. You can take the evidence and ride with Dr. Mallard and his assistant back to your lab and I'll call my scientist and send her over there to work."

"Alright!" Booth said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Guess I'll see ya later, Bones."

With that, they grabbed everything and began their trek back down to the parking lot.

* * *

Back at NCIS, McGee brought the pictures from the crime scene up on the plasma.

"Okaayyy," Tony said, grabbing the remote from McGee's hand as he and Booth stepped up to the plasma as well. "Five bodies, strung up in a tree."

"Remind you of a movie, Tony?" McGee asked dryly.

Tony took in a breath, ready to reply with one of his infamous movie references, but came up dry. "Actually, no, McGoo. I can't think of any movies this reminds me of."

"Surprising," McGee replied. "This whole human-tree ornaments thing is kinda creepy, y'know?"

"Yes. This guy is a bucket case," Ziva stated, walking around her desk to stand next to Booth, McGee and Tony in front of the plasma.

"Basket case, Zee-vah," Tony corrected her. "I thought you were getting better at these things."

Ziva punched his arm and Tony yelped. Booth snorted. "Bones does the same thing. I'm always having to correct her."

"Bones?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, that's my nickname for Dr. Brennan, since she works with bones, y'know?"

"Oh. Got it." Ziva replied, a serious look on her face as she contemplated it.

"Anyway, boss," Tony continued, putting them back on topic, "the most recent body had dog tags. The killer must have missed them."

"Sloppy," Booth commented.

"Definitely." Tony clicked a button on the remote and brought up a close-up photo of the dog tags found on the most recent victim. "The tags belong to a Petty Officer Elizabeth Coleman."

McGee went to his computer and brought up her records. "Elizabeth Coleman, on leave for the past two and a half weeks. Twenty-nine years old, lives in Arlington, Virginia with her brother, Alexander Coleman, unmarried, no kids and nothing outstanding on her record." He paused to type something on his keyboard. "That's odd..."

"What, McGee?"

"Nobody's reported her missing, boss."

"Bones told me her body had been there for at least a week," Booth told them.

"DiNozzo, David, go talk to the brother. Head to the Jeffersonian when you come back."

"On it, boss," Tony said. He and Ziva grabbed their bags and left.

Gibbs turned to the remaining agents. "McGee, find out everything you can about Petty Officer Coleman's life. Booth, help him." He breezed past them and headed towards the elevator. "I'm goin' for more coffee."

* * *

Meanwhile at the Jeffersonian...

Brennan led NCIS's M.E. and his assistant into the lab as six interns brought in the bodies and evidence. Once they had finished and left, her team plus Cam assembled around, with Brennan standing between them and the things from the scene.

"Ooh, evidence," Hodgins said with a smile. "Can I have it?"

"No, not yet, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan told him. Addressing the group as a whole, she said, "Everyone, this is Dr. Mallard from NCIS and his assistant..." She trailed off realizing she had never actually gotten the young man's name.

"Jimmy Palmer," the assistant said, a large grin on his face as he glanced around the large lab.

"Yes, thank you." Now she gestured to each present member of the Jeffersonian in turn. "Dr. Mallard, Mr. Palmer, this is Dr. Jack Hodgins, he's an entomologist, and his wife and our forensic artist, Angela Montenegro-Hodgins. This is our pathologist, Dr. Camille Saroyan and my current intern, Daisy Wick."

After a round of hand-shaking, Brennan, Cam, Daisy, Ducky, and Palmer got started uncovering all of the bodies.

"Can I take the evidence now, Dr. B?" Hodgins asked as they worked.

"Not yet, Hodgins."

"Why not, Bren?" Angela asked, her hands absentmindedly rubbing her protruding stomach.

"Because we have to wait on the evidence until the forensic scientist from NCIS gets here," Brennan replied. Hodgins pouted.

Ducky spoke up then. "Miss Sciuto is highly skilled and competent, if it is any consolation to you."

"Sciuto? As in Abby Sciuto?" Hodgins asked.

"Yeah," Palmer said. "Do you know her, Dr. Hodgins?"

"No, not personally, but I've heard of her. Read a couple of her articles. How long until-"

He was interrupted by the sudden _clomping_ of boots against the tile that caused everyone to spin around. Running towards the platform was a pale, smiling woman with pigtails, dressed in almost all black and carrying a bat-shaped purse, two silver briefcases, and a black CD player. The Jeffersonian employees watching from the platform were slightly shocked. They had no idea how this woman had gotten in or who she was. But then Ducky and Palmer stripped off their gloves and walked down the platform and toward the Gothic new arrival with smiles on their faces.

"Abigail!" Ducky greeted.

"Hi, Ducky! Hi, Jimmy! Wow, this place is awesome. I wish I had some of this equipment back in my lab!" she said in one breath. The Jeffersonian employees were still standing there in shock at the appearance of this supposedly-great scientist except for Brennan, who removed her gloves and traveled down the platform as well.

When she approached them, she stuck out her hand to the strange woman that already had her anthropological brain analyzing and speculating. "Hello, I'm-"

"Dr. Temperance Brennan. I'm a huge fan of your scientific work, you're amazing. I'm Abby Sciuto, but you can just call me Abby." Did this woman even need to breathe?

"Okay, Abby. You may call me Temperance." Brennan turned and the led them back up onto the platform after scanning her card. Abby was practically bouncing in excitement and it was apparent to Brennan that this woman had already had far too much caffeine this morning.

Once again, she introduced her team before they got back to work. This time Hodgins was allowed to pick up the evidence and take it over to his station, Abby following behind with her things and Angela with two of the five skulls, which Brennan had already finished examining.

"Jack, I'll be in my office doing these faces, okay?" Angela leaned in and kissed him before walking away.

"You guys make a cute couple," Abby told him when she was gone. "How far along is she?"

"Thanks," Hodgins replied with a smile. "She's six months."

"Is it your first? Kid, I mean."

"Yeah, it is," he told her as they began to unpack evidence. "We don't know the gender yet, we want to be surprised."

"That's so cool. There aren't any rules here about couples working together?" Abby asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Not really, no. Why?"

"Well our boss, Gibbs, he has these rules for our team and rule twelve is 'never date a coworker.' He made that rule because of a relationship of his with another agent, Jenny, that ended badly and then she came back to NCIS here and was our director but I'm not sure about their relationship after that cause it didn't quite seem romantic but it wasn't totally professional, y'know? And then she got killed by old enemies- long story- when she was in Los Angeles with Tony and Ziva and it was really sad and then we got Vance, who I'm still not too fond of, but anyway, speaking of Tony and Ziva, they have a kind of confusing relationship too, cause Ziva came on after Kate died and I didn't really like her at first but now I love her like a sister and Tony is like my big brother but Tony and Ziva, they would make a cute couple- like you and Angela- but I'm pretty sure they haven't broken rule twelve because they respect Gibbs too much. Plus, their relationship is pretty complicated, but that's a long story too, and I guess it's all a matter of time, right? But it's been a really long time, almost six years now." She finally took a breath. "So, what evidence did they bring us?" Abby turned to look at Hodgins and found him simply standing there and staring at her, mouth agape.

"What?"

Eventually, Hodgins managed to speak. "Ahh... Nothing. It's just... Wow, you sure can talk."

"Yeah, sorry." Abby smiled. "I didn't bore you, did I?"

"Oh, no. It was actually kind of... Interesting. Who are Tony and Ziva exactly?"

"Oh they're my friends and coworkers. You'll meet them later, they're great."

"Alright. Well, whaddya say we get to work on this stuff?" Hodgins lifted a specimen jar and rattled it.

"I'd love to. This place is so cool."

"Yeah, very state of the art. You take this box, I'll take this box?"

"Sure." Abby slid the evidence toward her, plugged in her music and headphones, pulled out her gear, and they got to work.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3: The Bickering in the Lab

Perilous Plights Chapter 3-

Sorry it has taken a while to get this updated but I am on spring break now so I have some time to write this chapter. Enjoy!

~NZA

Tony and Ziva bickered as they pulled up in front of Elizabeth and Alexander Coleman's house.

"I did not _hit _on her, Zee-vah! I was just being nice!"

"Sure, To-nee. You were definitely hitting on that gas station girl," Ziva huffed, unsure why she cared so much.

"Well it doesn't matter. We're here, so let's go talk to the brother." They stepped out of the car and slammed the doors shut. The house was a small, one story, and painted in an egg-shell white. It had a pale green trim and a short stone path that led up to the small front porch. A couple pots of dead flowers sat on either side of the light-colored, wooden front door. A dirty red 2010 Honda Accord sat in the driveway.

Tony and Ziva approached the door and Tony knocked while Ziva glanced around the neighborhood. It was nice and seemed friendly. Across the street, she could see two children, a boy and a girl, watching them while they played with a large yellow dog in their front yard. The boy, who looked to be about eight or nine, said something to girl, who could've been anywhere from twelve to sixteen, Ziva couldn't tell. There was still no answer at the door so Tony knocked again. The doorbell appeared to be broken so he didn't bother trying it.

As Ziva looked back over her shoulder, she noticed the two children from across the street walking towards them, the yellow dog strutting loyally at their side. Ziva turned completely and walked down the steps to meet the children. Tony turned as well but stayed next to the door.

"Are you guys looking for Mr. Coleman and his sister?" the girl asked. Now that she was closer, Ziva was able to better estimate her age at about thirteen or fourteen.

"Yes." Ziva nodded and pulled out her badge for the kids to see. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service. My name is Special Agent Ziva David."

"You guys are cops?" the little boy asked. He did look to be about eight years old. Both he and his sister had short-cropped, white-blonde hair and striking dark blue eyes. Ziva nodded again in answer to his question.

"We live across the street," the girl said, more for Tony's benefit, as he had not seen the kids before and was looking at them curiously. "I'm Elliott Turner and this is my brother, Lucas, and our dog, Old Pete." At hearing his name, Old Pete's tongue flopped out of his mouth and he wagged his tail. Lucas patted his head and stared at Ziva.

"Do you know where Mr. Coleman is?" Ziva asked Elliott.

The teenager shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't seen him leave today. If he hasn't answered the door, he could be in his backyard carving."

"He does that a lot," Lucas said. "Just sits back there and carves stuff out of pieces of wood. He listens to music really loud when he does it and can't hear anything. He's kinda weird."

"Lucas!" Elliott admonished. "It's just his hobby. You like looking at bugs. Doesn't that make you weird too?"

Lucas stuck his tongue out at her but said nothing.

"You can probably just go around back. I don't think Mr. Coleman will mind, especially since you're cops."

"Thank you," Ziva said. "One more thing. You mentioned Mr. Coleman's sister. Have you seen her around lately?"

Elliott shook her head. "I think she is in the military or something, so she isn't around much but she has been here for the past couple of weeks. On leave, I guess. But I haven't seen her in the last few days. I just assumed she went back to her job. Is that why you guys are here?"

Tony walked down the steps, signature grin in place. "Thanks, guys. That's all for now." He handed them a business card. "If you remember something, like seeing something suspicious from the last few days, give us a call."

"Is Miss Coleman in trouble?" Lucas asked.

His sister pulled him away, back towards their house. "Come on, Lucas. Let them do their jobs." She stuck Tony's card in her pocket and walked away with her brother and the dog in tow.

Tony and Ziva turned to each other before walking around the side of the house and through the creaky wooden gate into the backyard. True to the kids' word, they found Alexander Coleman there, sitting in a black fold-out chair next to a wood pile and whittling away at a chunk of wood. He looked up and stood abruptly when he notice them approaching, pulling the headphones out of his ears.

"Who are you guys?"

Tony and Ziva flashed their badges. "NCIS," Tony said. "You're Alexander Coleman?"

"Yeah… What's going on?" He tossed his iPod, knife, and the half-carved chunk of wood onto the seat he had just vacated and stepped forward.

"Have you seen your sister recently, Mr. Coleman?" Ziva inquired, pulling out a yellow notepad and a pen.

"Lizzie? I haven't seen her in the past couple days, but I figured we just kept missing each other. What is this about?"

"Like I said, Alex, NCIS," Tony said. "I'm Special Agent DiNozzo and this is my partner, Probationary Special Agent Ziva David." He gestured to Ziva, who scowled at his use of the term 'probationary.'

"Is Lizzie okay?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but five bodies were found in the woods this morning. One of them has been positively identified as your sister, Elizabeth Coleman," Tony told him.

"Oh God." Alexander Coleman ran his hands through his short brown hair and squatted down in the grass. "Oh God," he repeated. "Not Lizzie. How am I going to tell mom? She's going to be devastated."

"Is there anyone you would like us to call?" Ziva asked.

"No. No, I can do it. Wh-what happened to her? Who did it, do you know?" He still sat in the grass, face in his hands.

"We do not know yet, but we will find out, I assure you. Is there anyone who may have wanted to hurt Elizabeth?" Ziva asked.

"Do you know if she was seeing anyone recently?" Tony added.

"No, I don't think so. Liz was a good person. She wasn't very good at getting men though." He smiled briefly, but it faded as soon as he remembered why they were asking. "No, I can't think of anyone. And I'm pretty sure she didn't have a boyfriend."

"Has anything out of the ordinary happened that you've noticed recently?"

"No. Nothing," Coleman replied dejectedly.

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Coleman. We will keep in touch," Ziva replied with a sigh. This case was going nowhere on their end. Hopefully Abby, Ducky, and those Jeffersonian people were making progress with the bodies and the evidence. She and Tony slowly walked back to the car.

* * *

"Got one!" Angela shouted as she walked out of her office, startling everyone.

"What have you gotten, Angela?" Brennan asked, setting down the femur she had been examining. All of the victims were female and while she didn't like to make assumptions without all of the evidence, she felt fairly confident in assuming that they were dealing with a serial killer.

"The ID on skull number one," Angela stated proudly, resting her hands on her protruding belly.

"That was fast," Ducky commented.

"Angela is very good," Brennan stated matter-of-factly.

"She's the best," Hodgins said, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

"So?" Abby asked, bouncing over to them. She took a drink of Caf-Pow, which Brennan had reluctantly allowed her to have in the lab. "Who is it?"

"I reconstructed the skull and came up with a match pretty quickly from the Missing Persons database. Her name was Suzanna Kryer. I'm still working on the second skull you gave me, Bren."

"Suzanna Kryer," Abby repeated. "I'll go call Gibbs."

"No need, Abs," a gruff voice called from the entrance. Gibbs stood there, McGee and Booth behind him. McGee carried a laptop and Gibbs held his ever-present coffee. "McGee, find out everything you can on this Suzanna Kryer and get back to me."

"Yes, Boss." McGee walked up to the table where Abby stood and began typing rapidly on his laptop.

"Special Agent Gibbs," Brennan greeted. Once again, they made introductions before everyone got back to what they were doing previously. Angela returned to her office and Hodgins returned to his work station to grab some things before leading Abby and McGee to his lab. The five on the platform returned to examining the bodies as Gibbs and Booth ascended the platform.

"Got anything for me, Duck?" Gibbs asked the elderly medical examiner.

"Not much yet, I'm afraid, Jethro. All of the bodies are female and they were all killed in a similar manner. I feel confident in saying that we are likely dealing with a serial killer here. So unfortunate, all of the girls were young," Ducky sighed.

"Yes," Brennan agreed. "All of the victims were between twenty-one and thirty years of age at the time of death. This one here," she pointed to the body in front Ducky, "Elizabeth Coleman I believe the dog tags said, died the most recently. That one," she gestured to the body Cam was examining, one of two without a skull, "has been dead for only two months." She moved back to the body she had just been examining. It was the second body missing its skull. "And this one has been dead for about three months, according to Dr. Hodgins's analysis of insect activity. The other two have been dead for just under a year."

"Doesn't seem to be a pattern to this guy's killing," Booth commented.

"Nope," Gibbs agreed. "DiNozzo and David should be back from Elizabeth Coleman's brother's place soon. I'm gonna go see what McGee's got on Suzanna Kryer."

"I'll come with you." Booth followed Gibbs down the platform and towards Hodgins's lab.

"McGee, whaddya got?" Gibbs commanded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Not much, Boss. Suzanna Kryer was reported missing by her husband about two months ago. She doesn't have a criminal record, no kids. She owns a gold, 1999 Nissan Altima which was also reported missing about two months ago by her husband. His name is Ted Kryer, also no criminal record. Suzanna was twenty-seven years old at the time of disappearance and looks nothing like Elizabeth Coleman. If it is a serial killer, he's not choosing them by appearance."

"We'll talk to the husband as soon as Ziva and DiNozzo get here. With any luck, Alexander Coleman told them something useful." Gibbs walked out of the lab, sensing with his gut that Abby didn't have anything for him yet.

About ten minutes later, Gibbs and Booth heard bickering out in the lab from where they sat in Brennan's office discussing the case.

"Not true, Ziva. That chick barely even looked female. I would never hit on her," they heard Tony argue.

"That is a lie, Tony. You chase anything in a shirt." Gibbs and Booth walked out of the office, Booth chuckling quietly at Ziva's mistake.

"_Skirt_, Zee-vah. I chase anything in a _skirt_."

"Hah! So you admit it!"

"What! No, I don't admit it. I was just correcting your terrible English."

"Wow," Angela commented from where she stood next to Brennan on the platform, holding Suzanna Kryer's skull. "Are they dating? They bicker like an old married couple."

"No, they're just always like this," Palmer told her, amused.

"My English is just fine, Tony! I will rip your eyes out with this pen if you correct me again." Everyone within hearing distance that wasn't from NCIS's eyes widened at her threat.

"Hey, it's not my fault you still mess things up after five and a half years."

"I do not."

"You-"

"Hey!" Gibbs cut Tony off. "Knock it off you two, before I come over there and slap ya."

They both shut their mouths.

"Did you get anything from Alexander Coleman?"

"Nothing important, Boss. He didn't even realize she was missing. Thought they were just never in the house at the same time," Tony told him. "We talked to a couple of neighbor kids too but they didn't see anything either."

"Elizabeth Coleman probably did not know her assailant for very long, if at all, before he killed her," Ziva stated.

"Yeah, didn't think so. I'm goin' for more coffee." Gibbs breezed past them, smacking his senior agent on the head. Ziva punched Tony simultaneously and he yelped.

"Violent bunch," Cam commented quietly, chuckling. The others near her nodded and smiled in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lead in the Case

Sorry for the delay in updating but I have had schoolwork to attend to. Hope you enjoy this one. I've had plenty of time to write this during my Memorial Day weekend (three days instead of two for those that are not from the U.S.) which I have been spending at my grandma's house, lying around and being bored to death in between bouts of furniture/crap moving. Anyway, read away! Reviews appreciated.

~NZA :)

* * *

Tony and Ziva had gotten nothing of use from Suzanna Kryer's husband either and Gibbs was starting to run low on patience. They were waiting for Angela to discover the identity of the body belonging to skull number two, which she insisted would happen very soon. Finally, she came waddling into the main lab where everyone was loitering about and waiting for something to do. Abby and Hodgins had found nothing significant in the evidence, McGee had gotten nothing from Kryer's and Coleman's records and bank statements, and the bodies had all been examined. Each woman was determined to have died of exsanguination from a cut to the neck that severed both the jugular vein and carotid artery. Nicks to the bones in that area supported that. It was also determined that the women were beaten and raped, a fact that left everyone in a melancholy silence until Angela emerged from her office.

"Got it," she announced. "I got her background information and records too, so there's no need, Agent McGee." She smiled at the agent, who blushed and smiled in return.

"Ange?" Brennan called from the platform. "What is the victim's identity?"

"Oh, right. So I reconstructed her face and ran it through military and Missing Persons, which is where I got the hit. Her name is Christine Tyler, twenty-seven years old, unmarried, and no kids. She was reported missing by her mom, Jude Tyler, nearly three months ago. Judging by the time frame, she was killed pretty shortly after she was kidnapped. Tyler doesn't resemble either of the two recent victims and neither does the third skull I just reconstructed, which I'm still running. Anyway, the only thing they seem to have in common is the fact that they're all Caucasian. Christine Tyler doesn't have a criminal record, only a few speeding tickets, but hey, who doesn't?" She paused and turned to Brennan. "Rhetorical question, Bren," she told her friend.

"Did you find anything in her bank statements or call logs, Angela?" Booth asked.

"Nothing from her phone, which stopped being active right around the time she went missing. But the last places she used her credit card were a bar and a cafe a block from her business. She works- used to work at a floral boutique as the manager. I called and the person I talked to said her position still hasn't been officially refilled. They were holding out hope for a safe return, I guess. And no, G-man, I didn't tell them anything."

Booth grinned and turned to Gibbs. "The bar might be a good place to start looking. Maybe that's where our killer picks up his victims."

Gibbs nodded and turned to Angela. "Did she go to the bar before or after she went to the cafe?"

"After. Around nine p.m. the Friday before she was reported missing."

"Good. Agent Booth and I will go there. DiNozzo, McGee, go talk to Jude Tyler. Maybe her daughter told her something important. David, stay here, I don't need you and DiNozzo bickering some more. Help Abby or something." Gibbs began walking out, effectively stopping any of his agents' impending protests. Booth jogged to catch up with him.

"Agent Gibbs, seeing as all the bodies have been analyzed, I don't see any reason why Dr. Brennan shouldn't be allowed to accompany us. She is my partner, after all," Booth said, trying to convey that he was not going to take 'no' for answer.

"Fine," Gibbs complied, not in the mood to fight with the younger FBI agent. "As long as she doesn't get in the way."

Booth grinned. "Hey, Bones! C'mon, you're with us!"

Brennan smiled as well, shedding her lab coat and hurrying after the fast-retreating men.

* * *

"Okay, how are we going to do this?" Booth asked, following Gibbs into the bar Angela had directed them to and holding the door open behind him for Brennan.

"We'll talk to the bartender. Show her the pictures, see if she knows anything," Gibbs told him. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the music and clinking of glasses. Though it wasn't very late and not even dark yet, there were a lot of people in the small and poorly lit bar.

Booth nodded. "Three months is a long time to hold onto security footage, but they might still have it."

The three weaved through the crowd and up to the bar. They only had to stand at the counter for a minute before the bartender noticed them and made her way over. She wasn't old, but she wasn't young either. Brennan estimated that the woman was in her mid to late thirties. She had thin, shoulder length red hair and green eyes that contrasted nicely with the eye shadow she wore. She had a friendly smile and was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, black slacks, and blue Converse sneakers.

"Hi there," she greeted warmly. "What can I get for you guys?"

Gibbs and Booth held up their badges and she leaned in to look at them, surprise coloring her features.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, and this Agent Booth of the FBI and his partner, Dr. Brennan. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay, sure." She gestured for them to follow her down to the end of the bar where there was less activity. "What kind of questions? My name is Lynnette by the way. Lynnette Carlson."

"We're conducting a murder investigation and this may have been the last place one of our victims was seen," Booth informed the bartender. He pulled out the Missing Persons photograph Angela had given him on his way out of the lab, setting it on the counter between them. "Do you recognize this woman? She would have been in here about three months ago. On a Friday."

Lynnette peered closely at the photo. "I don't. Sorry. But my shifts end at seven and I don't work Fridays through Sundays so you're probably talking to the wrong person. I'm sure Joey would have been here though. Josephine Parks. She works the seven p.m. to two a.m. shift Mondays through Fridays. You can wait or come back later; she gets here right before I leave. It will be a couple hours though."

"Thanks," Booth told her. "We'll come back later."

Lynnette nodded, about to walk away, when Gibbs stopped her and set out three more pictures. Two were photographs of Suzanne Kryer and Elizabeth Coleman shortly before their deaths and the third was a print out of the reconstruction Angela had made of the third skull, the one she hadn't identified yet when they'd left. "Recognize these?"

The red headed bartender slowly shook her head as she examined the photos. "Nope, sorry. Like I said, Joey starts her shifts at seven. A lot more people start coming in around that time. You'll probably have better luck talking to her. Now, if you don't mind, I really have to get back to work."

Gibbs nodded and she walked off to tend to a new customer at the other end of the bar.

"Well that was no help," Booth announced as they exited the bar. "Bones and I will come back at seven to talk to this Joey Parks lady, Gibbs. You coming too?"

The silver haired team leader shook his head. "No. By that time your artist should have the next identity and we'll have more to look into. Let's head back and wait for DiNozzo and McGee."

* * *

Tony and Tim left shortly after the other three and drove to the address Angela had given them for Jude Tyler.

"So, what woman were you and Ziva fighting about?" McGee asked, breaking the silence that enveloped the navy blue Charger.

"None of your business, NcNosy," Tony replied, throwing the younger agent a mock glare.

Tim simply raised his eyebrows.

"Fine. If you must know, it was some lady behind the counter at the gas station. Ziva seems to think that I was googling her. Her words, not mine," he added.

"Were you?"

"No. I was not. Why do you care anyway, McGoo? You better not be using us for ideas for your new book."

"I don't really. And I'm not. I was just curious."

"Humph. Well, save your curiosity for the case, 'cause we're here." Tony slowed and turned into the driveway of Jude Tyler's house.

It was small A-frame home painted a pale blue with a large and colorful flower garden out front. Pink, red, and yellow tulips lined the stone path that led up to the front steps. Tony and McGee made their way up the path and to the door, ringing the bell and waiting patiently.

They didn't have to wait long. The white door swung open to reveal a small woman in her early fifties. She had her long grey hair pulled up in a bun and looked extremely fit for her age. "Hello," she greeted warily. "Can I help you boys?"

"Uhh..." McGee began.

"Yeah." Tony took over, flipping out his badge and showing it to her. "Special Agent DiNozzo. This is Special Agent McGee. NCIS. Are you Jude Tyler?"

She nodded her head, less hesitant now. "Yes, I am. What can I do for you, agents? Please," she stepped aside and opened the door wider, "come inside."

Tony and McGee complied and followed Jude down the hall and into her living room. She gestured for them to take a seat on the couch, a light blue affair with white flowers.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" she asked. At their polite refusal, she took a seat herself in the matching flowered armchair.

"Mrs. Tyler," McGee began hesitantly. It was never easy to tell someone their child was dead.

"Jude, please," she said, not unkindly.

"Ah, Jude. We're here about your daughter, Christine."

Her warm smile dropped. "I figured as much."

"Five bodies were found in the woods early this morning. We recently identified one as your daughter," Tony told her. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Jude nodded slowly, a downcast expression on her face. She did not cry though. Tony figured she would save that for later. Now she only seemed to want answers. "Do you know how it happened? I just can't think of anyone that would want to hurt Christine."

"We know it was murder, around the same time she went missing. Likely a serial killer at this point. We're doing our best to track the killer down. I'm sorry," he said again, quietly. He didn't ask if she knew anything else. His gut told him it wouldn't pan out anyway.

The grieving mother shook her head sternly. "Don't be sorry, Agent DiNozzo. Just find the terrible person that did this."

As they walked back down the path to the car, McGee glanced at Tony. "You didn't tell her how Christine died," he said.

"She doesn't want to hear that, McGee."

"But don't you think she has a right to know?"

"But she doesn't need to. She doesn't need to know that her daughter was beaten and raped before having her throat sliced open and then left to bleed out and be strung up on a tree like some macabre Christmas ornament."

"You're right." McGee nodded. "Sorry."

"Rule six, McGee."

"Right."

"Come on, let's head back. Maybe Gibbs and that Booth guy got something at the bar."

* * *

It took them fifteen minutes to get back to the Jeffersonian. When Tony and McGee entered the lab, they found Gibbs, Booth, Brennan, and Cam were talking and waiting for them near the platform. Daisy and Sweets had gone off to who knows where about an hour earlier and Ducky, Palmer, and Abby had retreated with Hodgins to his lab, where they discussed forensics and Ducky regaled them with tales from his youth. Ziva, with nothing else to do, had followed Angela back to her office. They were casually discussing the particulars of the latter woman's pregnancy. Angela was also contemplating how to go about bringing up the other woman's relationship with her attractive partner in a subtle manner. When they heard Tony and McGee return, everyone, scientist and agent alike, gathered around near the steps up to the platform to discuss the advances in the case.

"Nothing from Jude Tyler, Boss," Tony said.

Booth nodded. "We have to go back to the bar at seven. That's when the bartender who would have seen Christine Tyler starts her shift."

"I've reconstructed the last face and I have it running now," Angela announced. "And I got a hit on the fourth one. Her name is Jane Wyatt and she's a secretary at a law office across town. No relatives nearby so you'll have to talk her coworkers. She's single, Caucasian, twenty-three. Been missing for nearly six months."

"My team will check up on her," Gibbs stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "But it's too late to go to her office now. We'll have to wait till tomorrow."

Everyone nodded in agreement. The ensuing silence was broken by the ringing of Gibbs's phone. He pulled it out and flipped it open, pressing it to his ear.

"Gibbs," he answered gruffly. After a couple minutes of silence on their end, he hung up and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He looked up and stared grimly at the people surrounding him. "That was the forest ranger. A hiker just found three more bodies less than a mile from our first crime scene."


	5. Chapter 5: The Discovery in the Forest

I got a few nice reviews for this story so I decided to update one more time before summer since there has been a lull in homework lately. Which is surprising considering the end of the year is fast approaching but oh well. Half my finals are take home things that I've finished anyway so it will be a lax end to the year. Anyway, none of you care about any of this. Enjoy!

~NZA

* * *

_"That was the forest ranger. A hiker just found three more bodies less than a mile from our first crime scene."_

The FBI and NCIS teams pushed shrubbery out of the way as they followed the ranger through the woods.

"The hiker was walking her dog when she found the bodies. As soon as I heard the nature of the scene, I called you," the ranger, who they learned was named Alan Bishop, explained.

"How fresh are the bodies?" Booth asked.

"Umm, well, sir. I'm not really sure. I guess I'd say that they're not all that recent."

Finally, they pushed through a grouping of bushes and emerged into a copse of trees, one of which was slightly larger than the others. And adorned with three bodies.

"Two of these appear to have been foraged upon by wild animals," Brennan observed. She, Ducky, and Palmer stepped forward to get a closer look at the remains.

"I agree, my dear," Ducky said, receiving an odd look from Brennan at the term of endearment. She didn't have time to oppose as the elderly M.E. continued, "Also, all of these bodies appear to be at least five months old, am I correct?"

"Yes, you are." Brennan pulled on a pair of gloves and pulled each body nearer to her for examination. "I would place the time of death for these remains at five to eight months old. We will know more once we get them back to the lab."

"Alright," Booth interjected. He turned to the forest ranger and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Bishop, we can handle things from here."

As Bishop made his exit, Gibbs turned to his team. "DiNozzo, sketch and photos. McGee, bag and tag. Ziva," He paused, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Gibbs?" She tossed her partner the camera bag and turned to her boss.

"Scout the area around the scene. See if you can find anything of use, got it?"

"Yes, Gibbs." She departed through the trees in the opposite direction from which they'd come.

Booth and Gibbs walked towards the tree. The two doctors and one assistant were removing the bodies from their resting places in the oak tree.

"What kind of person kills people and then hangs them up in the woods?" Palmer inquired, receiving no response. "Right... I'll go get the gurneys, Doctor." The young assistant stood and stumbled over to the bushes where he'd dropped some of the equipment when they'd arrived.

"Watch it, Palmer," Tony said and stepped out of the way to avoid being bowled down by the younger man. He'd come a long way since his first years at NCIS, but Tony figured there were just some things that could never be changed. He snapped another photo and moved off to the other end of the minuscule clearing.

"What do you got, Bones?" Booth leaned over her, giving the bodies a quick glance before returning his attention fully to his partner.

"I told you, Booth. The remains range from five to eight months old and I won't know more until we return to lab for further examination."

"Think it's the same killer, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"At first glance, it does appear that way, yes." He pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned to his longtime friend and coworker. "What does your gut tell you, Jethro?"

At a look from Booth, Brennan refrained from commenting on the inaccuracies of using one's 'gut' as an investigatory tool.

"That we've got one sick bastard on our hands, Doctor."

* * *

Ziva stepped carefully through the brush as she scoured the area surrounding the new crime scene. Figuring she had about twenty-five to thirty minutes before the others were ready to leave, Ziva decided to travel a quarter-mile radius around the scene before heading back. She moved out from and around the area at a steady pace, taking everything in as she looked for anything that could potentially lead them to the killer.

The former Israeli found herself growing bored as she traveled further and further from the scene. "This is hopeless," Ziva muttered, shoving another tree branch out of her way. She stepped over a rotting log that was swarming with small green insects and grimaced as her boot sank into a pool of mud. It made a sucking noise as she yanked it back out.

"Disgusting." Ziva looked up, pushing a few stray hairs out of her face. She had to blink a few times to verify that she was actually seeing what was before her. She was, of course, and the smell corroborated it. The fresh corpse was dangling from the oak tree before her in the same manner as the others had been.

It didn't look like it had been there long, which meant the killer could still be there as well, depending on how long he- or she- liked to spend with his victims. She rested one hand on the gun at her hip and flicked off the safety before slipping her phone out of her pocket and flipping it open. No bars. Stupid forest. Ziva slammed the phone shut and shoved it back in her pocket. She gripped her gun tighter, pulling it from the holster and eyeing the shadows surrounding her cautiously before spinning around ducking back through the woods towards the crime scene. She knew she probably shouldn't have left the scene, but there was no other way of alerting the others. Occasionally, the bygone assassin would make a small notch in a tree with her knife to mark the path. That body was fresh. This could be the development that helped them break the case wide open.

* * *

"Boss, all done with the photos," Tony announced as he packed up the camera. Ducky, Palmer, and Brennan were packing up as well and preparing to head back to the trail.

McGee was just finishing up, bagging a few strands of tan fibers pulled from the debris around the backside of the big oak. He sealed the bag and stood, his heart nearly jumping into his throat when he heard rustling in the bushes to his right. McGee knew he was probably overreacting; it was unlikely any large animals would come near with them there, much less the killer. But still, he wrapped his right hand around his gun anyway and waited. The young agent visibly relaxed when it was Ziva that burst out of the foliage in an apparent rush.

"Ziva? What's wrong?" At this point, Gibbs and Booth had heard the ruckus and came over as well. Her boss was eyeing her with- to the experienced eye- a very faint hint of concern on his face.

"Another body, Gibbs. Very recent. About four hundred yards in that direction." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

Gibbs nodded. "McGee, go get Ducky. You and Dr. Brennan will stay here until we get back."

"Yes, boss."

* * *

They returned to the Jeffersonian three hours later, exhausted and hungry. But their work was not done. Booth and Brennan left immediately after overseeing the arrival of the evidence and bodies. They took Booth's SUV back to the bar where Christine Tyler had last used her credit card.

This time, rather than a petite redhead, there was a tall black woman manning the counter. She was thin and beautiful, with a radiant smile and vibrant personality that seemed to charm all the patrons.

Booth and Brennan pushed their way through the crowd- which was significantly larger than earlier- and Booth rapped his knuckles on the countertop to gain the bartender's attention. She smiled and sashayed gracefully over to them in skirt and heels.

"Hey, you must be the agents Lynette was telling me about?" She posed it as a question, nodding in acceptance when Booth flashed his badge and motioned her to a far corner.

"I'm Agent Booth, this is my partner, Dr, Brennan, of the Jeffersonian. You're Josephine Parks?"

"Yeah, but you can call me Joey. Lynn said something about an investigation? What can I do for you?"

Booth pulled out the photographs of Christine Tyler, Elizabeth Coleman, Suzanne Kryer, and Jane Wyatt. He handed them to Joey. "Recognize any of these women?"

Joey peered at each photo with stern concentration. "Yes, this one." She shook the photo of Christine Tyler. "She's been in here a couple times but I haven't seen her in a while. Did something happen to her?"

"Miss Tyler is dead," Brennan stated bluntly.

"Bones," Booth sighed, massaging his temples.

Joey Parks's jaw dropped open. "My God. That's horrible. And these women?" She shook the three other photos. "Are they dead too?"

Booth nodded solemnly. "Ms. Parks, these women were murdered. Anything you can tell me about Christine Tyler would be extremely helpful."

"Gosh. It's been a few months. We don't even have security tapes from that long ago." She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut, as she tried to remember. "Y'know, I could be wrong, but I think I remember her leaving with some guy the last time she was here."

Booth nodded, waiting and hoping for more.

"I'm sorry. That's all I can remember."

"It's fine. This still helps, Ms. Parks." He pulled out a card and exchanged it for the photos. "If you remember anything else, or if you see the guy again and recognize him, please call."

"Alright." Joey Parks smiled, turned on a two inch heel and returned to her job.

"C'mon, Bones, let's head back."

"Yes. I have to examine the skeletal remains. If someone else examines them, it is likely they will miss something that is vital to the case."

* * *

"Give it to me, Duck."

"As I told you at the crime scene, Jethro, the woman that Ziva found has not been dead more than thirty-six hours," Ducky told him.

"The killer must have dropped her right before we got there," Gibbs replied.

"But how?" Cam asked. "It was still light out when you guys went to the crime scene. How could he have dragged a body in without anyone seeing?"

"Those woods have many entrances and back trails," Ducky commented. "He must have figured out a way through that would be surreptitious. I am surprised Ziva didn't run into him."

"That would have been convenient," Cam said. "Assuming she would've been the one to take him down and not the other way around."

"I'm sure Ziva could have handled it," said Palmer, reminding Cam of the kid's existence.

"Why is that, Mr. Palmer?" Cam replied. Jimmy was startled. People didn't usually reply to him very. Normally they just glared.

"Uh- Um- Well, Agent David is ex-Mossad."

Cam's eyebrows rose but she said nothing.

"Finish up here," Gibbs commanded. He turned and bounded down the platform towards Booth and Brennan, who were just arriving in the lab.

Brennan breezed past Gibbs and scanned her card with ease as she ascended the platform. She immediately snapped on a pair of gloves and got to work unzipping the body bags containing the skeletal remains from the second crime scene.

"Joey Parks didn't tell us much," Booth informed the NCIS agent. "Said she recognized Christine Tyler and thinks she remembers her leaving with a man a few months ago. Never saw her again and they don't have the security footage from that long ago."

"It's more than we had before," Gibbs said. "I've got my agents looking for any information they can find on Jane Wyatt. Abby and Angela are tryin' to find the newest victim's identity."

"Alright. I think after Bones is done with her initial exam of those remains we should probably call it a night." Booth glanced at his watch. It was nearly 10:30.

"Fine." Gibbs walked away, presumably to check on his people, and Booth went up to check on Brennan and Cam and the NCIS guys.

* * *

"Somebody, tell me somethin'," Gibbs demanded, stepping into Hodgins' lab. Tony and Ziva were hunched over a single laptop in the corner, continually shoving each other out of the way to take control of the keyboard. Abby, Hodgins, and Angela were standing- or sitting, in Angela's case- around another couple of computers, waiting impatiently for the results of various tests and searches. McGee was also working diligently, sitting in on a stool with a laptop balanced on his lap and a look of stern concentration on his face. They all looked up when he entered and the members of his team rushed to give him something useful.

"Boss!"

"Gibbs."

"Hi, Gibbs!"

"Hey."

He remained silent, gripping his ever-present coffee cup in one hand. Abby, McGee, Ziva, and Tony all began speaking at once. "Hey!" Gibbs barked. "One at a time." He looked to Abby, making it apparent to Jack and Angela that she was the favorite.

Abby smiled in obvious glee at this fact. "The fibers McGee found behind the tree came from the same rope used to hang up the victims."

"And the rope is a common brand that can be found at nearly any store that sells rope," Hodgins added.

Abby nodded in confirmation of his statement. "We're also running a picture of the newest victim through Missing Persons and DMV but we haven't gotten any hits yet. I'm thinking Missing Persons probably won't turn anything up, since she hasn't been dead for very long. Unless the killer keeps his victims for a few days before killing them. Also, Angela's super awesome facial reconstruction of the fifth and oldest victim from the first crime scene got a hit."

"Her name is Jemma Lewis," Angela said. "Agent McGee is finding information on her."

Gibbs nodded and turned to look at Tony and Ziva, who pushed each other aside to get at the computer first. Their boss glared and turned to McGee.

McGee nodded and set the laptop down on the nearest table, spinning it to face Gibbs. "Jemma Lewis has been missing for just over six months, Boss. She's Caucasian, twenty-one- she would have been twenty-two last month- and unmarried. She has an apartment that she shares with a roommate but, obviously, the roommate has been paying the rent alone since Lewis has been, well, dead. Both of Jemma's parents died in a car accident when she was nineteen and she was an only child. She worked for a local newspaper as an office assistant and, get this, the last place she used her credit card was at a bar."

"Same bar as Christine Tyler?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but that can't be a coincidence, right? He has to be picking the women up at bars."

"Rule 39. Anything else?"

"No, that's all I could get."

Gibbs turned back to Ziva and Tony, who stared back expectantly.

After a brief moment of looking back and forth between the two silently, Gibbs said, "Ziva."

Tony looked offended as his partner smiled triumphantly and began speaking. "We have been looking through Jane Wyatt's cell phone records and bank statements. No payments on her credit card reflect time spent at a bar before she died, but she may have simply paid in cash. But-"

"Or maybe the killer paid for her," Tony said.

"Yes, that too." Ziva rolled her eyes. "But- as I was saying before Tony so _rudely_ interrupted me- her last call was to her roommate and the phone records show that the call was placed right in the vicinity of a bar."

Booth entered the lab and Gibbs turned to leave just as one of the computers behind Abby, Hodgins, and Angela beeped.

Abby said, "And the name of the woman Ziva found is-"

"Lorena Allgood," Angela finished.

"We'll need to identify the other three victims," Booth said. "But Lorena Allgood's records might lead us straight to the killer."

* * *

There, nice and long for ya. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Let me know if there are any mistakes. Oh, and for those of you that don't know or forgot, Rule 39 is "There is no such thing as coincidences." There's a very slight possibility that I'll update this again this weekend but a greater chance that there will be another chapter before school is out for me. Dunno. We'll see. Reviews are appreciated and thanks for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6: The Potential in the Pub

Well I'm finally on Summer Vacation. Which means this story will most likely be finished by the end of July or August. Same with my other fics if any of you are reading those too- and thank you if you are. Now enjoy the chapter, I made it nice and long for you! Don't know when the next chapter will be uploaded. Whenever I write it, I guess. Okay done rambling.  
Oh and there are a few places I mention in here that most likely do not exist because I made them up. I live nearly as far from the East Coast as I can get while still living within the continental United States, so forgive me for any errors. Thanks! Also, please pardon the awkward formatting/layout (if it exists) because I wrote this chapter on my iPod and then sent it through my email to my computer and copy/pasted it into a Word document so it might look a little funny. Okay, NOW I'm done... I think.

~NZA ;)

* * *

At eight the next morning, both teams gathered in the Jeffersonian to discuss the case. They sat on chairs, couches, and tables on the platform above the lab, sipping coffee or tea and munching on fruit and donuts.  
"This is way too early to be sitting here working," Angela complained, punctuating the statement with a yawn. She grabbed the donut that was halfway to her husband's mouth and consumed a third of it in one bite, chasing it down with a gulp of green tea.  
Hodgins frowned. "Hey!" Angela shrugged and took another bite.  
"Okay people," Booth clapped once, attracting everyone's attention. "Let's get started here. The sooner we get to looking for this whackjob, the better."  
"We'll need to look into Lorena Allgood," Gibbs said. "She'll be our best chance at finding him."  
"Abby and I can do that, Boss," McGee offered. Abby, holding a Caf-Pow! rather than tea or coffee nodded in agreement.  
"Good," Gibbs replied. "Go now."  
McGee grabbed his coffee and laptop and followed Abby down the stairs.  
"I should get to work on the rest of those identities," Angela announced. She heaved herself off the couch, holding up a hand when Hodgins made to follow. "Nuh uh, sweetie. Stay here, I don't need your help, okay? I'm pregnant, not crippled." The artist grabbed her tea and walked away as her husband sank back onto the couch in disappointment.  
"We need to pursue the Jemma Lewis leads too," Tony reminded them. "Ziva and I can go to the bar where she was last seen."  
"Do it," Gibbs ordered. "Soon as McGee and Abby have something on Lorena Allgood, Booth and I will follow that."  
"Oh, Jethro," Ducky interjected, setting down his tea. "About Miss Allgood- and I think Dr. Saroyan here would agree," he gestured to Cam, who sat to his left. "Judging from the bruising on her body- which was easily seen, considering how recently she met her demise- it appears that the killer kept her and beat her for two, possibly three, days before he killed her."  
"And because we're dealing with a serial killer, I think it's safe to assume that the same was done to the other victims as well," Cam added.  
"Alright. Thanks, Duck," Gibbs replied. "DiNozzo, David, get goin'. Report back here when you're done." The two agents grabbed their drinks and left.  
"Booth," Brennan said. "I must finish my examination of the new skeletons. Also, I find that by sitting here silently, we are being counterproductive. Maybe you could let Hodgins and the pathologists return to work as well."  
"Okay, Bones." Booth gripped his coffee and stood. "We should all probably get to work." He turned to Gibbs. "Maybe your agents have something."  
Slowly, everyone stood and departed the platform with snacks and beverages in hand. Most took as long as possible due to their exhaustion and reluctance to return to work.  
Gibbs and Booth left the doctors- minus Hodgins, who followed them- on the examination platform and walked to Jack's lab. They found Abby and McGee studying records and images on McGee's laptop screen. Abby's music emanated from her black boom box with a surprising softness.  
Hodgins strode across the lab to his own computer and began analyzing soil samples.  
"Abbs, ya got anything?" Gibbs asked.  
"Why yes we do, bossman." Abby slurped the remains of her Caf-Pow! and stared at the cup sadly. "So sad to see the first of the day go."  
"Abbs."  
"Right." She tossed the cup in the trash and gestured at McGee. He brought up a driver's license and another Missing Persons report. "Lorena Allgood is a twenty-five year old nurse. She lived right here in D.C. and is not married. The Missing Persons report was filed by a guy named Evan Crowley early yesterday morning."  
McGee clicked some buttons on his keyboard and brought up bank and phone records. "I uh, got her records. Lorena Allgood had a few speeding tickets, but nothing else. Her only calls recently have been one to the hospital she works at- from last week- and a few to Evan Crowley and a landline belonging to Nancy and David Allgood, who I assume are her parents. She also sent and received several texts to and from Crowley and a Sara Allgood. Probably her sister. She had a credit card and a debit only card, which she used most often. The last place she used it? O'Leary's Pub on L Street."  
"A bar," Booth said, only slightly surprised. "That seems to be his M.O. But he isn't sticking to just one."  
Gibbs nodded. "Makes it harder to track him down. Let's go talk to this Evan Crowley guy. Where does he live, McGee?"  
"With Allgood, Boss."  
Abby jotted down the address and on a sticky note and turned, slapping it on Gibbs's chest.  
"Thanks, Abbs." He kissed her cheek and pulled the note off his jacket. "Booth and I will go check out Crowley and the bar. McGee, stay here and help them." Without waiting for a response, Gibbs spun on his heel and followed Booth out of the lab.

* * *

Booth rapped his knuckles on the door to Lorena Allgood's apartment. After a long minute, the door to 2B swung open, revealing a man in his mid-twenties wearing baggy grey sweats and a stained white T-shirt. His blond hair stuck up in every direction and there was a two day old layer of stubble on his chin.  
"Are you the police," he asked anxiously. Gibbs and Booth observed the bags under his eyes and nodded.  
They pulled out their badges. "I'm Special Agent Booth, FBI. This is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Are you Evan Crowley?"  
The man nodded. "Did you find Lorena? Is she okay?"  
Booth frowned. "Can we come inside, Mr. Crowley?"  
Crowley nodded again and stepped aside, allowing them entrance. He shut the door behind them. "Uh, can I get you guys some, like, coffee or something?" he asked.  
Both shook their heads. "Take a seat, Mr. Crowley," Booth said, perching on the edge of a stylish red sofa.  
"Evan, please." Crowley dropped into a matching red armchair to the left of the sofa.  
Gibbs perched on the edge at the other end of the couch, further from Crowley. "What's your relationship with Lorena Allgood?" he asked.  
The young man got a sad look in his green eyes. "She's my fiancée," he told them. "Did you find her? Is she at the hospital?"  
The man's naivety made breaking the news to him all the more difficult. "We found her body in the woods last night," Gibbs told Crowley.  
"We believe your fiancée's death is connected to a case of ours involving a serial killer," Booth added.  
All the hope visibly drained from Evan's body. He looked into his lap and sniffed. "Oh."  
"We're very sorry for your loss, Evan," Booth said. "Is there anything you can tell us that might lead us to Lorena's killer? Anything at all?"  
Crowley shrugged sadly, eyes still on his lap.  
"Where were you when your fiancée was at O'Leary's Pub three days ago?" Gibbs asked.  
Crowley finally looked up. "I-," he took a shaky breath. "I was out of town. I got back the next day. I'm an investment banker. I had to go to a conference in Virginia."  
"And you came back to find your fiancée missing?" Booth asked. Crowley nodded. "How'd you know she was missing?"  
"I just knew. She's a nurse. It was early and she doesn't start work until one so when she wasn't home I tried calling her but... But I got no answer. I called the police," he furrowed his brow angrily, "but they told me I had to wait twenty-four hours from the time I found she was missing. Even though it could have already been that long." Evan buried his face in his hands and released a wavering sigh.  
After a few seconds, he looked up at them, eyeing each agent carefully, a spark of determination in his eyes. "You have to find her killer. Please? I don't want to have to tell Lorrie's parents that their daughter was killed for nothing." The sad look returned to his face, though now it was mixed with a renewed strength and anger.  
"We're doing everything we can," Gibbs assured. He and Booth rose and made their way out the door.  
Evan Crowley watched them go before reaching for the white rectangular card Gibbs had left on the coffee table. He held it in his hands and stared at it blankly as he finally let the tears fall.

* * *

"Off to the bar," Booth sighed. He slid into the passenger seat of the blue NCIS Charger. "Let's hope someone there can help us out."  
"Yeah," Gibbs replied brusquely, revving the engine and speeding out of the apartment complex parking lot.  
With Gibbs's posthaste driving methods, they made it to O'Leary's Pub on L Street in good time. It was a small pub, with a couple back rooms and an apartment above it. Though it was early, there were still a few patrons nursing drinks at tables, booths, and the bar. A lone bartender was topping off a man's scotch when the agents walked in.  
He had cropped black hair and a short beard and was about six feet tall, thin, but strongly built. His friendly green eyes were bordered by light wrinkles, laugh lines, and he looked to be in his late thirties or early forties.  
"Hello," he greeted, returning the scotch to the liquor shelf behind him and grabbing a glass and rag off the countertop. "Can I get you guys anything?" He began polishing the glass with the rag.  
Booth shook his head and flashed his badge. "We need to ask you some questions about a woman that was in here recently, sir."  
The man nodded. "Of course. I work here day and night. Own the place actually. So whatever you need, I'll try to provide." He gave a friendly smile and proffered his hand to both agents. "Kevin O'Leary. Call me Kevin, though."  
Booth and Gibbs shook his hand and introduced themselves.  
They walked over to a secluded corner, away from prying eyes and ears. "So what's this about a woman?"  
Booth pulled a photograph of Lorena Allgood from his pocket. It had been taken when she was alive, with a white toothed grin and sparkling brown eyes, brunette hair blown to the side by a breeze. "Do you recognize her?" The FBI agent asked.  
"Yeah. Lorena, I think." At the agents' raised eyebrows, he explained. "Really nice girl. She comes here every once in a while. Usually with her fiancé, uh, Evan or something. But not the last time. She was just here a couple days ago. By herself."  
"Miss Allgood was found dead this morning," Booth told O'Leary. "We're investigating the murder."  
O'Leary's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Murder? My gosh. She was just here."  
"That's why we're here," Gibbs replied. "What can you tell us about the night she was here?"  
O'Leary scratched his head contemplatively. "She left around nine or ten p.m. I have video cameras. I can get the footage for you. It will take a while though. I have to sort it out and make copies."  
"Did she leave with someone?" Booth asked.  
O'Leary shook his head. "No. Like I said, she was here alone." He paused, thoughtfully stroking his beard with a thumb an forefinger. "Actually, another man left shortly after she did. Within the minute. I didn't recognize him though. And I thought nothing of it at the time."  
"Thanks," Booth said, handing the man his card. "Call us as soon as you have those copies of the security tapes."  
"Will do. I'll get right to it."

* * *

They got back to the Jeffersonian just after 11:30. Tony and Ziva had already returned, with little new information. The bar Jemma Lewis had gone to had security cameras, but they had been broken for years. They were just there to scare the criminals, the manager had claimed. The bar tenders that were there that night were even less helpful. Her roommate didn't know much of anything either. She had been on vacation in Florida with her sister at the time.  
Brennan's further examination of the other bodies yielded only one new piece of evidence.  
"There's a nick on the right clavicle," she explained, "that would be consistent with a thin, sharp instrument- such as a needle- being plunged deeply into the victim's shoulder. It also indicates that the assailant may be right-handed, if he or she came at the victim from the rear. Like this." Brennan reached for the nearest bystander, who happened to be Palmer, and grabbed a convenient syringe off the tray next to her. She proceeded to give the young assistant a rather violent mock injection with the needle, stopping just before it plunged into his shoulder. Palmer's eyes widened and he escaped as quickly and as far away from Brennan as possible once she'd retracted her hand. Everyone laughed, a few- namely, Booth- slapping their foreheads in slight exasperation.  
"Great, right-handed," Tony commented sarcastically. "That narrows it down."  
Brennan frowned. "I don't understand. That most certainly does not narrow it down. At least not much. A large percent of the population is right-handed." They stared incredulously at her for moment. "Oh. Agent DiNozzo was merely being facetious. I understand now." And as though she hadn't just confused a significant portion of the room's occupants, Brennan returned to her work, cleaning her workspace and prepping the bones for temporary storage.  
The others slowly dispersed, most in the direction of Angela's office, where she already had the rest of the identities discovered. It was really more progress than anyone else had made. The pathologists were at a loss, already having corroborated that there was, indeed, a faint puncture mark on Lorena Allgood's shoulder. By the time she was killed it had mostly healed and the drug or drugs she had been given were already out of her bloodstream, according to Abby and Hodgins.  
Now the agents- the scientists were touring or giving tours of the Jeffersonian- gathered in the artist's office as she called up three facial reconstructions and the Missing Persons files that went with them.  
"That was fast, Ange. Nice work," said Booth as they gathered around the Angelator.  
"Thanks, G-man, I do my best." She smiled and absently rubbed her protruding belly. "Plus, I had some help from Abby and McGee."  
"So who are they?" Tony asked.  
"Their names are Nora Bower, Anne Porter, and Mary Alice Hinton. They're Caucasian, like all the others, but also like the others, they hardly look alike. And they're all in their early or mid twenties," Angela explained.  
"Well, it fits the basic pattern," McGee said. "Not that we had much doubt that these were more of our killer's victims."  
"Maybe we'll get our big break when Kevin O'Leary gets us those security tapes," Booth suggested. The others nodded in agreement.  
After a mutual decision was made that more coffee and tea was needed for them to make it through the rest of the afternoon, Booth, Gibbs, McGee, and DiNozzo collected orders and set out to retrieve them.  
The doctors, plus Palmer, were discussing the particulars of the anatomical side of the case back on the upper platform. Daisy had once again left to meet up with Sweets. Abby and Hodgins were, unbeknownst to Cam, performing an un-case-related experiment in the latter's lab. Occasional muted cheers were heard from behind the glass doors as other museum employees passed by.  
Ziva found herself in Angela's lab for the second time. Though she was not much of a talker, much less a 'girly girl,' the former assassin was surprised to find herself enjoying the artist's company. Aside from the odd innuendos she gave, the woman was much like Tali, an observation that was oddly comforting to Ziva.  
"Hey, do you wanna walk to the diner with me?" Angela asked, breaking Ziva out of her reverie. "I'm really craving some pie." They heard a faint crash, followed by a cheer. "Plus, it sounds like Jack is busy with another one of his experiments." The soon-to-be mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  
Ziva laughed and pushed herself off the couch. "Sure."  
"So what's your relationship with Agent DiNozzo?" Angela casually asked as they strolled down a nearly vacant sidewalk.  
Ziva lifted her eyebrows. "Why does everyone ask this? We are just partners!" she exclaimed.  
Angela's eyebrows rose as well, an amused smirk playing on her lips.  
"Work partners," Ziva insisted.  
"Sure, Sweetie. That's exactly what Bren says. But we all know she and Booth are totally in love."  
Ziva chuckled, shaking her head. "So do you go to this diner often?"  
"Oh yeah, the Royal Diner is great. Their pie is the best. Mmm... I think I'll have apple pie and gravy. That sounds delicious."  
Ziva's brow furrowed. "Gravy? That sounds... Disgusting."  
Angela shrugged. "Pregnancy cravings."  
"Are they always this strange?"  
"This is actually pretty normal. Last week I made Jack run out at midnight for Doritos, lima beans, and caramel sauce. Have you ever tried a peanut butter and carrot sandwich?"  
"Ah, no, I can't say that I have," Ziva replied.  
The smile dropped from Ziva's face as her entire body was suddenly seized by pain and she was yanked into the adjacent alleyway by her arm and tossed to the ground. She attempted to reach for her gun but her body would not respond. Ziva was vaguely aware of a muted yelp coming from Angela and then the other woman being lowered to the ground beside her before she felt a pricking sensation in her neck and her vision blurred. Before the blackness swallowed her, Ziva had the thought that Gibbs and the others would NOT be pleased when they discovered she got them kidnapped. Damn it.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated! ;)


	7. Chapter 7: The Glint in the Alley

Wow, am I being nice and generous to you readers. Two updates in two days? I never do that. Plus, I really should be working on updates for my other fics but… I just like this story the most, even if it might have the least number of readers (as crossovers often do). Oh well. I have two months to update my other stories :D Enjoy!

~NZA

* * *

"We're baaaack," Tony called as they stepped through the doors of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab carrying drink trays.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. If his hands had not been busy holding tea and coffee, he would have smacked the man.

Their friends on the upper platform descended and they passed out the steaming drinks.

"Where are the others?" McGee asked. He held a Caf Pow! for Abby in one hand, his own sugary coffee in the other.

"I believe Dr. Hodgins and Ms. Sciuto are in Hodgins' lab," Brennan replied. She took a small sip of her chamomile tea and trailed after the others in the direction of the aforementioned lab.

Cam groaned when the glass doors slid open. There was some sort of neon pink powder covering the surface of nearly everything in the room, walls, ceiling, and occupants included, though, to Cam's relief, the expensive machines were draped in a clear plastic. Abby and Jack were clad in lab coats and goggles and were carrying odd-looking devices and grinning like Cheshire cats. The grins quickly fell when they spotted their bosses and coworkers gathered at the entrance.

"H-heeeyyy, Cam!" Hodgins greeted, swiftly making the apparatus in his hand disappear behind his back. "What's up? Oh! I see you guys are back with the coffee!"

Abby set her own device down and waved giddily, prancing up to McGee, pigtails bouncing. She snatched her Caf Pow! out of his grip and kissed him on the cheek. She took a large gulp and turned. "Hi, Gibbs!"

"What... happened?" Cam asked slowly, trying not to blow up.

"Uh- uh. Well... Don't worry, Cam. We'll clean it up, I swear.

"Wh-what did you-ou guys DO?" Booth asked, unable to refrain from laughing.

Abby and Hodgins removed their pink dusted lab coats and goggles and shrugged.

"I promise we'll clean it up, Cam," Hodgins told his boss, accepting his mocha from Booth.

Cam nodded slowly, making sure to take deep breaths. "It's fine..." Her tone was not convincing. "Just... Make sure it gets done before you go home tonight. I don't want to leave the poor janitorial staff with this mess. God knows, they've had to clean up after your little experiments before."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Saroyan," Abby squeaked from behind her Caf Pow! container.

Cam held up her hands, palms out, fingers splayed. "It's fine, really. Let's just... Go give the others their drinks and... Take a breather for a while until something turns up. Okay? Okay." She turned and walked out of the room, still taking deep breaths, and the others followed. Jack and Abby were brushing the pink powder out of their hair, meek expressions on their faces.

"Let's hope Angela and Agent David weren't doing experiments too," Booth joked. He noticed Cam's pace pick up just a bit and grinned.

Now they all filed into Angela's office. Why everyone was still sticking to the group was beyond him.

"Where did they go?" McGee asked, noting the lack of Angela and Ziva in the room. Though everyone else seemed to be in there now.

"It appears they have left without us noticing," Brennan answered. She lifted a slip of paper of Angela's desk and showed it to Booth.

Booth read it and grinned. "'Dear Hodgie or whoever, I was craving pie and gravy so we walked to the Royal Diner. Love, Angela.' Hear that, Hodgie?" Booth asked with a laugh.

Hodgins glared and snatched the note from him. "Yeah, thanks." He did not sound the least bit thankful. "I think I'll head over there. See ya when I get back," he called over his shoulder.

Gibbs set Ziva and Angela's teas on the latter's office desk and followed everyone else out of the room.

Booth's phone began to ring as everybody parted ways once again. "Booth," he answered. "Yeah? Okay, I'll be right there. Thanks." He hung up and dropped the phone back in his pocket. "That was Kevin O'Leary," he told Gibbs and Brennan, the only people still near him. "He has the security tapes. Bones and I will go pick 'em up."

Gibbs nodded, sipped his coffee and strode away. A man of few words. Booth could appreciate that.

"Let's go, Bones." The FBI agent lead his partner out of the lab with his hand on the small of her back.

* * *

Hodgins chose to drive to the Diner, figuring his pregnant wife would appreciate some relief for her feet on the way back. He slid effortlessly into a parallel parking space across the street and followed the crosswalk up to the Royal Diner. The bells jingled as he pulled the door open and again as it swung back into place in the doorframe. He glanced around, not seeing his wife or the NCIS agent. Maybe they had already left.

Jack walked up to the counter and tapped on it, getting the attention of one of the waitresses. She smiled and walked over.

"Hey, Dr. Hodgins. How's your wife? She hasn't had the baby yet, has she?"

Hodgins shook his head and smiled in return. "No, not yet, Margie. Actually, I was wondering if she already came and left?"

"What?" Margie looked confused.

"She left a note at the lab. Said she was walking here to get some pie. You haven't seen her?"

The middle aged waitress shook her head. "Nope, I haven't. If she's walking from the lab, maybe she just isn't here yet."

Hodgins shrugged. "I didn't see her on the way over. Maybe she took the shorter route. I'll go check. Thanks, Margie. See ya later." He tossed her a smile and a wave and left.

He got back in his car and pulled out, heading away from the main road and in the direction of another. He and the others at the Jeffersonian had found it to be a much less crowded and also shorter route from the Jeffersonian to the Royal Diner.

But the two women were not on that road either. Before allowing himself to panic, Hodgins circled around and took the main road again, this time watching more closely for his wife and the agent.

"Maybe I just missed them again," he sighed, tapping his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. The parking space across from the diner that he had taken before was occupied when he returned so he pulled a little further down the street and parked there. He crossed at jog, not bothering to utilize a crosswalk and pushed through the door of the diner.

Jack felt his heart rate pick up a little when he scanned the room and once again found no sign of his wife.

"No luck, Dr. Hodgins?" Margie's worried voice called from behind the counter. She attracted the attention of a few patrons, as did he.

"No, nothing." Hodgins clenched his fists. His pregnant wife was missing. In the middle of their search for a serial killer. That was NOT good.

Margie's worry grew with his increasingly harried expression. She circled around the counter to stand in front of the scientist who she had served, along with his friends, a countless number of times. "Should I call the police?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I think I'll go back and check the Jeffersonian first. Then I'll talk to Booth."

Margie gently patted his shoulder and stared with sympathetic eyes. "I hope she's there," she said.

Hodgins nodded in agreement and left. He took the shorter route back- just to check again. But they were still nowhere to be seen. At the lab, he pulled into the first parking spot he saw and jogged the rest of the way, dialing Angela's number as he did. No answer.

He burst through the doors of the lab, out of breath, a frantic look in his blue eyes. The security guards and a few employees stared curiously and he called out "Ange?" and ran toward her office. Her empty office.

Cam, Gibbs, and DiNozzo appeared out of nowhere when he turned back to the door.

"Jeez!" he exclaimed. He pressed his hand to his already fast-beating heart.

"Are you okay, Hodgins?" Cam asked, eyeing him with the same worry Margie had not long before.

"I can't find Angela," he explained, fear and dread still increasing by the minute. "She's not at the diner or on the streets. Is she here somewhere? Have you seen her?"

Cam held up her hands. "Calm down, Hodgins. Are your sure she's not anywhere you've checked?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure!" He threw his arms in the air. "I checked multiple times! She's missing!"

"Did you see Ziva?" Tony asked. There was barely perceptible note of fear in his voice.

"No. I didn't see her either." Hodgins ran his fingers through his curly hair and then gripped it, pulling. "This is bad, guys. Really bad," he sighed.

"DiNozzo, call Ziva," Gibbs commanded.

"Hodgins, did you try calling her?" Cam asked hopefully.

"Yeah. No answer."

Tony hung up his phone. "No answer from Ziva either, Boss. Think it's our killer?"

Gibbs sighed. "Maybe, DiNozzo. I hope not. Call Booth, tell him what's goin' on." He walked out, telling them he would have McGee do a trace on their phones.

Hodgins was right. This was definitely NOT good.

* * *

"This could be it, Bones," Booth declared as he drove them back to the pub on L Street.

"I denote something akin to excitement in your voice," Brennan observed.

"Well yeah, Bones, we could be close to catching the killer!"

"I see," Brennan grinned. "I suppose that is something to become excited about."

"Yep, it sure is." He parked right in front of the pub and lead Brennan inside. Kevin O'Leary met them at the door with a CD case.

He handed the orange plastic case to Booth. "Here you go, Agent Booth. That's everything from the day before Lorena's visit all the way to the day after. I hope it helps."

"Me too, Kevin. Thanks for this." They returned to the car. Before Booth could get the key in the ignition, his phone rang. "Booth," he spoke into the receiver.

Brennan watched his facial expression go from cheery and hopeful to what appeared to be confused, then shocked, and then a bit angry. He smacked the steering wheel. "Got it. We'll be right there." He hung up and tossed his phone into the cup holder.

"What's wrong, Booth?" Brennan asked. She rarely saw him act this way.

He rammed the key into the ignition and shot out into the street, traveling at least fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limit.

"Booth?"

He looked at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. The last thing he needed right now was to get them wrapped around a telephone pole. "That was DiNozzo. Angela and Agent David are missing," he told her.

Brennan sucked in a breath and stared at him worriedly. "Booth, do you think it could be the killer from our case?"

"I think it's a good possibility, Bones."

* * *

The trip back took only half as long as the trip there. Booth and Brennan speed walked into the building.

"What happened?" Booth questioned as they approached the others. McGee, Hodgins, and DiNozzo were the only ones that appeared to be doing something. The latter two had their phones pressed to their ears; Booth figured they were trying to get a hold of the missing women. McGee was balancing his laptop on his left forearm and typing frantically with his right hand. Booth had little doubt that he was running a trace on the phones.

"They walked to the Royal Diner," Cam replied.

"I know that. What else?"

"Hodgins drove to the diner to meet them but they weren't there. Never had been," she elaborated.

"Weren't on the street either," Gibbs added.

"I was discussing the case with Dr. Sweets earlier," Ducky inserted. "He and I made up a general profile on the killer. Judging by this, he is very much capable of this. After all, kidnapping is a part of his M.O."

"But two women at the same time?" Booth asked skeptically.

"One of which is a trained assassin," Palmer interjected.

Ducky nodded. "Yes, possibly. One was, in a manner of speaking, incapacitated already, what with stage of pregnancy she is in. And Ziva..." The elderly doctor sighed and shrugged. "She may have simply been taken by surprise. It would not be the first time the poor dear got herself into trouble."

"Ziva says she's gotten softer since she came to America. She gets mad at herself for it sometimes," Tony told them. He was no longer on the phone.

"We need to find them," Gibbs declared unnecessarily. "McGee?"

McGee shrugged apologetically. "I've tried like ten times, Boss. I can't get a fix on either of them."

"Gibbs is right. We NEED to find them!" Hodgins nearly shouted.

"Maybe the killer did see Ziva at the crime scene and decided to follow her until he had a chance to grab her," Palmer offered. It was rare for him to give his two cents, but a couple of them knew he was a fairly bright and resourceful kid.

"We should split up. Take some forensic gear and walk the streets that lead to the diner," Booth said.

"They had to have taken that back way," Hodgins reasoned. "It's the only way he could've taken them without being easily seen."

Booth nodded in agreement. "Right. Okay, we'll check there." He suddenly remembered that he was holding the security video footage from the pub where Lorena Allgood had been kidnapped. He tossed it to Abby, knowing she was probably the best person for the job without Angela there. "Security footage from the night before to the night after Allgood went missing. See if you can find the guy's face in there, will ya?"

"Right away." Abby ripped McGee's laptop from his hands and ran off towards Angela's office. Well, ran as much as was possible in thick platform boots.

The rest, minus Ducky and Palmer, gathered some gear and prepared to walk the route to the Royal Diner.

"You should stay here, Hodgins," Booth told the scientist, but to no avail.

"No way, man. I'm going."

They spoke no further. Carefully and quietly, they scrutinized anything and everything for a sign of their missing comrades. The NCIS team, comprising Gibbs, Tony, and McGee, traversed the right side of the street. The Jeffersonian/FBI team, Cam, Booth, Hodgins, and Brennan, was on the left.

"I think I've got something!" Cam called out suddenly. She squatted at the entrance to an alley and the others hurried over.

"What have you found?" Brennan asked.

"Glove?" Cam held out a hand and a latex glove was placed in it. She slipped it on and gently fingered a piece of transparent plastic before picking it up between her thumb and forefinger.

"Syringe cap?" Hodgins guessed as Cam held the object up for the rest to observe.

"Looks like it."

"It would be consistent with the other victim's kidnappings," said McGee.

"Bag it," Booth ordered. He stepped around them and flashed his light around the alleyway.

Tony stood beside him and added his own flashlight beam, further illuminating the dark alley. He grimaced when he saw a freakishly large rat scamper from one wall to the other with what looked to be a McDonald's burger wrapper clenched in its disease ridden little jaws. Then a glint on the ground caught his eye and, keeping watch for more fast food-loving monster rats, stepped forward for a closer look.

DiNozzo felt his heart drop into his shoes when he finally saw what it was. Ziva's badge.

* * *

Reviews are very much appreciated ;)


	8. Chapter 8: The Dripping in the Basement

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The steady dripping of a leaking pipe somewhere in the room was slowly driving Ziva insane. They were in a basement, with just one tiny excuse for a window high up on one wall. To her left, she could discern wooden steps leading up to a door that, no doubt, locked from the outside.

Great. Just great. How could she have been so stupid? Ziva clenched her fists and sighed. She could still feel the torpid numbness of whatever drugs she'd been injected with coursing through her body. Drugs made her feel sluggish and scatterbrained and she hated them.

A dull moan somewhere to her right dragged Ziva from her abusive self-introspection and she turned her head. The pregnant Jeffersonian artist was slowly pushing herself into a seated position, a pained look on her face, and Ziva felt a wave of guilt at the fact that- of all the people working on this case- she had to get the pregnant one kidnapped. In the back of her mind, a voice that sounded oddly like Tony's was nagging her about the guilt. It's not your fault, it told her. It's not as if you just stood there and ASKED for him to drug and kidnap the two of you. Ziva shook her head. I will feel guilty if I want, she snapped back silently.

"What happened?" Angela's groggy voice asked, breaking through the silence of the darkened room.

"I believe it is safe to assume that the killer has chosen us as his next victims and kidnapped us," Ziva replied.

"Shit," Angela exclaimed and Ziva had to bite back the urge to laugh at the woman's utterly appropriate response.

Instead she asked, "Are you alright? Is the baby...?"

Angela rubbed her belly contemplatively and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think we're okay. How about you?"

"Fine," Ziva answered. It had always been her automatic response to such questions, even if it wasn't exactly true. She gently rubbed the slightly swollen puncture marks left by the stun gun. They were, admittedly, probably the least painful part of her body right now. Her entire being ached as though she had been dropped and then kicked down those stairs to land where she was now.

"That's good," Angela whispered. "How are we going to get out of here?"

Ziva gave the chain attached to her left arm a tug, listening to it rattle. "Well, I do not know about you, but I am stuck here. And I am fairly certain that door is going to be locked, even if we can get to it."

Angela rattled the chain connected to her own left wrist. "Yeah, probably."

"You left a note though, yes?" At Angela's nod, Ziva continued, "Then they are bound to find discover that we are missing soon, if they haven't already."

"True. We took the back road. My friends will know that that's an easy place for us to get snatched." She winced and rubbed her stomach.

"Is everything alright?" Ziva questioned, worried that either the drugs or the abuse or both could have affected the baby.

Angela smiled, despite the dire circumstances. "Yeah, the baby's just kicking up a storm," she said.

Ziva allowed a small smile to grace her own lips. "Do you know whether it is a boy or a girl?"

Angela shook her head. "Uh uh. Hodgins and I want to be surprised. If it's a girl, we're going to name her Katherine and if it's a boy, we'll name him Michael. Temperance will be the middle name if it's a girl. After Brennan, since she's my best friend and all." Angela grinned and lightly patted her belly. Then the grin dropped. "If we ever get out of here, that is. Otherwise it'll be you, me, and baby hanging from the tree." Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

Ziva shifted uncomfortably, crying women were never her strong suit. But she gently reached out and rested a hand on the artist's shoulder. "We will get out," she assured. "And in a couple months, you will have a healthy baby. If I cannot get us out, my team- our _teams_- will. Alive."

* * *

Cam, Booth, Brennan, Gibbs, and DiNozzo gathered on the couch and chairs in Brennan's office. Abby and McGee were going through the O'Leary's security tapes in earnest and Hodgins was running an analysis on the syringe cap found in the alleyway. Ducky and Palmer were at the Hoover building speaking and speculating with Sweets.

"Why does the killer hold on to his victims for so long?" Booth queried.

"There were no signs of sexual abuse on the victims," Brennan inserted.

"Which suggests he keeps them for another reason," said Tony. "Maybe he thinks of the women as pets or servants."

"Or wives," Gibbs adds.

"Or perhaps he's simply impotent," Cam suggested.

"It could a multitude of reasons," Booth huffed. "We can't know for sure unless we figure out who this guy is."

"Abby and McGee are working on it," said Gibbs.

"Then-"

Hodgins suddenly burst through the door. "I tested the syringe cap for traces of the drug used." He walked to Brennan's desk and brought results up on her computer screen, turning it around for everyone to see.

"What does that mean, Hodgins?" Booth asked impatiently.

"I found traces of methohexital, otherwise known as methohexitone and marketed under the brand name Brevital," he explained. "It's a barbiturate derivative that's thankfully not known to be harmful to a pregnant woman or a fetus."

"That's very good," Brennan stated unnecessarily.

"Where's it come from?" Gibbs asked.

"Methohexital is generally provided as a sodium salt," said Hodgins. "To put it into a syringe, he probably liquidized it somehow. I believe the killer has some form of education in chemistry or pharmacology. If either of these are a component of his current job, it's possible that he stole the drugs from work."

"So our perp could be a chemist or a pharmacist," Cam clarified.

"Exactly. Or he at least used to be."

"Boss!" They heard McGee's yell just before he arrived in the doorway, panting and red-faced. "I think we found him!" he huffed after a moment.

"_Think_?" Gibbs parroted, rising from his chair. The others followed as McGee quickly led them back to Angela's office.

Abby glanced at them anxiously from where she sat in front of the computers as a freeze-frame of the pub security tapes flashed up on the big screen.

"This guy left just five seconds after Lorena Allgood did," she told them. "He had one drink, which he hardly touched, and left his payment on the table in cash. This is the best frontal view of him we could get."

"Did you run the picture?" Tony asked.

Abby shot him a mildly hurt look. "Of course we did! We just haven't gotten the results yet."

"Then why'd you call us in here?" Gibbs asked.

"Because of this." Abby clicked the mouse and another freeze-frame appeared. It was a fuzzy image of a car parked on the side of the street opposite the pub. She clicked again and zoomed in, making the image even fuzzier. One more click and the picture cleared up just enough to see a semi-clear side view of a dark colored van. The emblem on the front was barely discernible as the Dodge logo and three and a half of the license plate numbers were visible.

Gibbs squinted at the screen. "What's that say?"

McGee replied, "It's a dark blue or black Dodge van with a Maryland license plate beginning in A-T-3 and what appears to be a seven, Boss."

"We ran it," Abby said, "and found five dark blue or black vans with license plates beginning in AT37, twenty-eight beginning in just AT3."

"We ruled out all the vans belonging to women," McGee began.

"Because Ducky and Dr. Sweets determined the guy probably isn't married," continued Abby.

"And were left with twenty AT3 vans and three AT37's," McGee finished.

"Great," Tony said. "Now if we just-" He was cut off by a beeping from one of the computers.

"Got a match!" Abby shouted gleefully. "From the school system data base. Creepy. His name is..."

* * *

The creaking of the wooden steps startled Angela out of a light nap. She gasped, unconsciously reaching out to grip Ziva's forearm. For whatever reason, Angela was unsure, the woman next to her remained completely still, seemingly calm.

The creaking stopped, replaced by the sound of footsteps on the concrete floor, heading in their direction. Then he spoke, in a voice that was eerily calm but by no means warm or inviting, despite his words.

"Hello, ladies," he said. "Welcome to my little getaway. Sadly, your stay here will be brief. But I do hope you'll enjoy yourselves. I know I will."

* * *

Muahahahaha. Sorry about the short chapter. Reviews make me happy! Boredom makes me update. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9: The Clue in the Rope

Alright here we go! Thanks to those of you that reviewed, they made me smile :)

* * *

_"Got a match!" Abby shouted gleefully. "From the school system data base. Creepy. His name is..."_

"…Carl Holt." She brought up one of the van registrations. "And he owns a black van! License plate number: AT3759."

"That's pretty sloppy," Booth commented, grinning. "He let himself be seen _and_ he's in the system."

"What does he teach?" asked Gibbs.

"Botany. At a community college in Virginia."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Hodgins called, clapping his hands. "What are you guys waiting for?"

"Do you think he's stupid enough to take the women to his home address?" Tony wondered. "Does he have any other properties?"

Abby checked, shook her head sadly.

"We need to check, at least," said Cam.

"It's unlikely," Brennan stated.

"But we still have to check," said Gibbs.

"Bones and I'll go," Booth offered, though it was more of an assertion.

Gibbs nodded. "Fine. Take McGee with you." He gestured toward the door and the young agent hurriedly followed Booth and Brennan.

After McGee entered the address into his phone's navigator, Booth drove the SUV to Carl Holt's home. It was a shabby apartment building in a low-income Virginia neighborhood, just a ten minute drive from the community college where Holt worked.

Booth, Brennan, and McGee stepped out of the SUV and walked up the four grime-crusted steps to the front door. It was locked, but a panel to the left of it displayed five call buttons and a yellowed list of names, none of which were Carl Holt's.

"This paper is old," McGee observed. "They probably haven't changed the names in a long time. Holt is supposed to live in 2B." He pointed to the call button for 2B. Beside it was the name 'T. Emerson.'

"Let's buzz all but 2B until someone lets us in," he suggested. With a shrug, McGee pressed the buzzer for 2A, "A. Yates.' After a minute of no response, he pressed the buzzer below it, 1A, 'P. Brooks.' Ten seconds later, a gravelly voice that gave no indication whether its owner was male or female emanated from the rusty speaker.

"Yeah? What is it?" Whoever it was did not seem to be in a pleasant mood, either.

"Hi, is this P. Brooks?" Booth asked.

They heard coughing, followed by, "No, I'm the new manager. P. Brooks ain't lived 'ere for a long time. What do you want?"

"FBI. Can you buzz us in please?"

After some static-filled grumbling, the door buzzed and unlocked. Booth pushed it open and tried his best not to think about the sticky residue left on his hand afterwards.

The inside of the building looked even more derelict than the outside. The first floor contained a desk, a defunct elevator- stuck between the main floor and the one above it- a stairwell entrance, and the paint-flaked door to 1A. There did not appear to be a 1B.

Booth pointed to the door and they walked over to it, he knocked.

Shortly after, it swung open to the extent a safety chain connecting it to the doorframe would allow.

"Yeah?"

It was the same gravelly voice, minus the static of the intercom, and they could now see that it belonged to a heavyset woman in her mid- to late-forties.

Booth and McGee held up their badges.

"FBI, NCIS," Booth introduced. "Can you tell me your name please?"

The woman's drawn-on eyebrows drew together suspiciously as she inspected the badges before saying, "Alma Jasper."

"Ms. Jasper, do you think you could let us in? We need to ask you a few questions," Booth replied, keeping his voice as unthreatening but authoritative as possible.

Jasper heaved a sigh that reeked of cigarettes before shutting the door so she could unlatch the chain. When it opened again, it opened fully, revealing an average sized apartment furnished in things that looked straight from a 70s furniture catalog. Jasper was already waddling away, compelling the three to follow. The vinyl mat in the doorway crackled as they stepped on it and they slowly made their way inside, McGee shutting the door behind them.

Jasper, wearing a floral blouse that was far too tight and revealing for someone of her size and tattered jeans that weren't much better, flopped into a recliner on the other side of the small living room, causing it to groan as though in protest. The smell of the apartment, likely a scent belonging originally to its owner, nearly made their eyes water. They quickly decided this would need to be a short visit.

"Ms. Jasper," Booth began, "do you know all of the tenants in this apartment building?"

"Course I do," she grunted. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. Whether it was due to fear or simply her large size making her overheated, Booth was unsure. "I collec' rent from 'em every month."

"So you know the man living in 2B, Carl Holt?"

"That's basically what I just said, ain't it?" When she received no response she added, "Yeah, I know 'im."

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Holt, ma'am?" McGee asked.

Alma Jasper scratched her greasy head thoughtfully for a moment. With a shrug of her large shoulders, "I dunno, couple days ago, I guess. I ain't his momma. I jus' collect his rent."

"Do you ever see him bring women home with him?" inquired Brennan.

Jasper stared, bewildered, for a second before shaking her head and smiling, revealing a crooked array of yellowed and decaying teeth. "Not any can't be shipped to 'im in a box," she replied. "Little tree hugger just cain't get it up, if ya ask me. He a loner, no doubt about it."

"Tree hugger?" McGee echoed.

Jasper nodded slowly. "Uh huh. He's some... Plant teacher at a school or somethin' like that."

"So you haven't seen Mr. Holt at all today, Ms. Jasper?" asked Booth.

"Nuh uh. Wha's all this questionin' about Mister Holt? He in trouble or somethin'? 'Cause he still owes me this month's rent, y'know." Jasper crossed her pale, fat arms and frowned.

"Do you happen to have the key to his apartment?" Booth said, ignoring her question.

"Yeah... Wanna tell me what y'all are doin' here?"

"Can we borrow the key for a few minutes please?" He avoided her question again.

"You need a warrant or somethin' for that," Jasper said, uncrossing her arms. "What did he do?"

Booth sighed. "Carl Holt is someone we need to speak to regarding a case," he answered.

Jasper chewed on her bottom lip for a minute before finally heaving herself out of the recliner with a great deal of effort. "Alright fine," she grumbled, yanking a key off of a rack full of them. "But this was your idea." She passed the key to Booth. "And ya gotta bring it back when you're done, understand?"

Booth smiled politely and forced himself not to cringe at the vomit-inducing aroma of tobacco and body odor that wafted off of her. "I understand. Thank you, Ms. Jasper, we'll be right back with this." He jingled the key on its ring and proceeded to usher Brennan and McGee out the door quickly before Alma changed her mind and demanded a warrant.

They took the stairs, littered with fast-food wrappers, rat excrement, and other unidentifiable things, up to the second floor. 2B was on their right. Booth knocked, waited. No one answered.

"Nobody home," he said quietly. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing." He reached out and unlocked the door before stepping inside and groping the wall in search of a light switch. At last he found it, flicking it and bathing the room in a dim yellow glow.

This apartment was more modernly furnished- though not any less shabby- than Alma Jasper's. Discarded clothing, dishes, and trash littered the kitchen and living room. It was doubtful the rooms down the hall would look any better.

"Nice place," McGee commented sarcastically.

Brennan eyed him strangely but did not comment, having a feeling that the NCIS agent was only being facetious.

"Yeah, real homey," Booth said, kicking an empty Burger King cup and watching it skitter across the floor.

"I feel as though this apartment building would not be an adequate location for keeping his victims," Brennan told them, dodging a mysterious rotting object on the carpet with a grimace.

"Yeah, I doubt he's here, Bones. He probably has some remote hiding place for his extracurricular activities. We should still take a quick look around, though. While we're here."

They wandered slowly through the apartment, avoiding the potential biohazards as much as possible. The last room they entered appeared to be Holt's bedroom. It contained an unmade queen-sized bed, a lamp and nightstand, and a bookshelf in need of some dusting. The closet contained both clean- and dirty-looking clothing, but nothing linking Carl Holt to the murders.

"Booth," Brennan called. She was perusing the bookshelf while McGee checked around the bed and nightstand.

Booth closed the closet and joined her, as did McGee. "What is it, Bones?"

"Look at these books."

The first books he noticed were all on plant life of some sort; trees, fungi, _What Not To Eat When Lost in the Woods_. Then he spotted the books Brennan was referring to: _Gray's Anatomy_, _Guide to Karma Sutra_, various murder mystery novels. He even spotted one of Brennan's novels, and pointed it out.

"Yeah, there's one of mine, too," McGee said, indicating a copy of _Deep Six_ nestled among the others. "This guy's all about the murder. And some... erm... sex, too."

"You're Thom E. Gemcity?" Brennan asked, staring at McGee as though she was just noticing him.

McGee's face flushed. "Um, yeah. Thom E. Gemcity is a uh-"

"An anagram of Timothy McGee," Brennan finished. "That's very clever."

McGee smiled, turning redder, if possible. "Uh, thanks."

"Okay, now that the author convention is over," Booth inserted, "we should probably get the key back to the landlady and return to the Jeffersonian. Obviously, Holt's not here. And we didn't find anything important besides his reading preference, so we're clearly searching in the wrong place."

They departed quickly, stopping to drop the key with Alma before heading out to the car. As they were getting in, McGee's phone rang.

"Hello?" After a minute, "Okay, we're on our way back now. Nothing at the apartment except for an interesting choice in reading material... Fifteen minutes... Bye." He hung up and returned the phone to his pocket.

"That was Tony. They called the college where Holt works and apparently he phoned in to request a few day's sick leave yesterday evening. No one there has seen him since the day before."

"Carl Holt's looking more and more like our guy," Booth said. He navigated the SUV back to the Jeffersonian.

* * *

"I'm so thrilled to have _two_ women joining me," he spoke quietly, his tone slightly sadistic. He leaned over Ziva and she gazed back unflinchingly. "You know, when I first spotted you in the woods, encountering my Lorena so early, I was angry. But then you turned, and I wanted to take you right then, but that would have been too risky."

Then he caressed Ziva's cheek and before she could react, plunged a syringe into her thigh. She soon lost feeling and control in her limbs and she cursed herself for not acting sooner. Angela watched quietly and helplessly, afraid to upset or anger the psychopath in any way.

"Taking both of you was easier than I thought." His dark eyes flicked to Angela, then back to Ziva. "My Ziva," he whispered, tugging on a lock of her hair.

Ziva knew he was waiting for the fear to reveal itself; in her eyes, in her face, in her voice. She wouldn't give it to him. She stared back blankly, brown eyes meeting soulless black.

"No worries," he whispered. "You will become one of my girls soon, whether you speak to me or not." He ran his hand down her cheek, her neck, her chest, stopping just above the top of Ziva's jeans. "The pregnant one- What was it? Angela," he patted the artist's knee with his other hand, teeth bared in a grin that looked frighteningly similar to a snarling wolf. Angela bit her lip, trying her hardest not to cry out at the man's touch, not to just cry. "She's just an added bonus."

He returned his attention to Ziva. "Maybe I'll take the fetus as a souvenir when this is over." He removed his hand from her abdomen and moved from a crouch to a sitting position on Ziva's left. He stretched an arm around the Israeli-American's numbed shoulders, as though he were a boyfriend and she, his date. He missed the way her jaw clenched at the contact.

Though this man was no Caf-Pow!-swilling terrorist, Ziva couldn't help but flash back to Saleem and Somalia. How she had, by the end of those three hellish months, given up. How, even if by some slim chance she could have taken down the one man, there would have been thirty more waiting just outside to kill her or capture her. The former is what she had wanted, hoped for, because at least then, the torture, and the violation, and the self-hatred could finally stop. But she _had_ survived it, because of her friends- her family. And now, here she was, the captive of some low-life piece of garbage serial killer that she should have been able to take down with ease. The Mossad operatives she spoke to on occasion were right; America had made her soft, but a good soft because now she felt and she cared and the softening had essentially made her _stronger_. Now she was responsible for two lives, the kind and compassionate artist and her unborn child.

As her captor ran his hand libidinously over her body, Ziva felt anger and adrenaline rush through her, felt her limbs begin to tingle as the low dose of drugs wore off and feeling returned.

* * *

"Holt has worked at the college for several years," Abby explained. "He majored in both botany and chemistry. I'm thinking he stole the methohexital from the college. He knew what it was, its effects. He knew how to use it."

"And nobody noticed anything was missing?" asked Cam.

"Maybe he steals small amounts at a time," Tony suggested. "Just before he goes on one of his little kidnapping and killing escapades."

"You find any other properties yet, Abbs?" Gibbs asked the Goth scientist.

Abby shook her head, pigtails bouncing. "Not yet. But Hodgins and I did take another look at the rope he's using." She brought up a screen of test results and gestured to Hodgins, who had become less nervous-wreck and more determined-husband as they discovered leads.

"Okay," he tapped the screen. "We tested several different parts of each piece of rope. Unsurprisingly, the breakdown revealed all the stuff one typically finds in rope. But we also found this," he circled his index finger around a relatively low bar on the chart. Upon noticing the confused looks on all faces but Abby's, he elaborated, "It's a type of mineral found in only a select few kinds of soil. None of which can be found in the woods where the victims were found." He looked to Abby and she changed windows, calling up a map of the Maryland/Virginia area.

"The nearest source of this mineral is in this," he pointed, "rural area just a few miles outside Fort Hunt, Virginia. There are some houses out there but they're scattered and pretty far apart. A lot of them haven't been occupied for years, partly because of the inconvenience of the location and partly due to a strange increase in the cockroach population there a couple years back. Freaked some people out. My guess?" He paused and stared at the group briefly. "Carl Holt is using one of those empty houses to hold his victims."

"From there to his apartment is only about a fifteen minute drive," Booth affirmed. "We need to go check it out."

Abby passed Gibbs a list of addresses. "These are all of the vacant houses in the area."

"Thanks, Abbs." He kissed her cheek and headed towards the door. "DiNozzo, McGee, you're with me. Booth, you and Dr. Brennan can take your car. Let's go nail this bastard."

"I'm going!" called Hodgins, tossing his lab coat on a chair and following them.

"So am I," Cam asserted. "They might need a doctor if we find them and I'm medically certified." She added the last part as clarification to the NCIS agents.

Booth frowned contemplatively for half a second before nodding. "Fine. Cam you can come. Hodgins, you stay." He pointed at the entomologist as though he was a disobedient puppy and not a bug- and dirt-loving human scientist.

Hodgins glared. "No way, Booth. I'm coming, whether you like it or not. It's my _wife_ that Holt has."

"Hurry up and make a decision because it's also _my_ agent that he has," Gibbs growled.

After another second of deliberation, Booth sighed. "Alright, fine. C'mon Hodgins. Just don't get in the way, got it?"

"Got it. Let's go."

"What about me?" Abby called, still sitting in Angela's office.

"Stay here!" Gibbs replied. "Call Ducky, fill him in." And they were gone.

* * *

Ooookaaay there's a fly the size of a St. Bernard buzzing around my house and it's kinda creepy. It can't seem to figure out that the door is open and it CANNOT fly through windows... My dog keeps trying to eat it, but considering that she's a yorkshire terrier and is barely even tall enough to see out the windows, it's proving to be a pretty much fruitless effort. Anyways, enough about freakishly large flies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading. The next chapter will probably be up within a week unless the fly devours me or every computer in my house, something I wouldn't put past it/her/him (how am I supposed to know?). Reviews are appreciated, of course! ;)


	10. Chapter 10: The Speeding on the Roadway

Sorry about the wait. I was on vacation without access to my laptop. On the bright side, I got a nice tan. Thanks to the people that reviewed and/or alerted! I won't waste your reading time with a long AN like I often do ;)

* * *

The movement of Ziva's hand caught Angela's eye and she subtly glanced to her left. Their captor was still fondling the NCIS agent's limp body with his right hand, his left shoved into the front of his pants. Angela swallowed the urge to be sick. She was sitting right here, yet there was nothing she could do.

More movement from Ziva drew her attention. Her fingers were twitching, curling, just out of the killer's view.

The artist felt hope swell in her chest. SHE may not have stood a chance, but Ziva was a trained federal agent.

The killer gave a low moan. Ziva clenched her jaw, flexed her fingers. She shifted her eyes, catching Angela's gaze and giving her the tiniest of nods. Her Mossad training was kicking in. She would be able to respond much faster than his usual victims. And she would catch him by surprise, because this man no doubt underestimated her.

Ziva caught his right wrist mid-stroke, swinging her right hand around to strike his jugular before he had a chance to react. He gagged and gave a furious shout as he grabbed a fistful of Ziva's hair. She unpinned his wrist and raised her hands, boxing his ears at the same moment he slammed the side of her head into the brick of the basement wall.

He unleashed a rather unmanly scream and curled in on himself as Ziva dragged herself as far away as the chains would allow. She could feel blood running down her temple, had little doubt that she'd received a concussion, and was finding it hard to think.

The man was still conscious and they were still in danger. Thus far she had only served to make him angrier. And an angry psychopath was far more deadly than a horny one.

* * *

Rather than cram into Booth's SUV- the only vehicle with enough seats to fit all seven of them- they took separate cars, NCIS team in one and FBI/Jeffersonian in another.

Booth was finding it difficult to keep up with Gibbs's breakneck speeds while trying not to kill everyone at the same time. The elder agent was extremely determined- and pissed.

By some miracle, they had managed to avoid any policemen on patrol. Though Booth was sure the NCIS agent would not have stopped for one anyway.

The usual half-hour drive took them just over fifteen minutes. They ripped into the road leading to the first of eight vacant houses within a roughly two-mile radius.

The agents and scientists jumped out of the vehicles.

"There's no cell service out here," McGee informed them.

Booth flung open the door of his SUV and grabbed a pair of walkie-talkies. He tossed one to Gibbs.

"Here. Channel seven," he said. "They're satellite, so they'll work here."

Gibbs nodded. "You start here," he ordered. "We'll take the four farthest out."

He, Tony, and McGee returned to the Charger.

"Wait!" called Booth. "Take Cam." He ushered the woman forward. "In case you guys find them first. Bones'll come with me and Hodgins."

Once they'd peeled off down the road, Booth realized he probably should have asked McGee or DiNozzo to stay, now being the only one there with a gun.

Or not.

He watched, surprised- though he knew he shouldn't have been- as Brennan pulled the .357 he thought he'd confiscated seemingly from nowhere.

Shaking his head, the FBI agent waved the pair of scientists into the SUV and jumped in, speeding down to the first house.

As they jogged up to the front door a minute later, Booth said, "Listen, Bones, no shooting unless you absolutely have to. Got it?" He peered into the front window. The house was dark, the plants and lawn overgrown. But this house was in clear view of the road. He didn't think they'd find Holt there, but they needed to check.

"Yes, Booth. I know how to use a gun."

He didn't bother to argue further. He pulled his gun, flicked off the safety, and tested the door. Locked. Taking a few steps back, Booth rushed forward and hit the door with the force of his body weight. It splintered open and he hurried in, gun at the ready.

No basement. Empty garage. Empty rooms.

"He's not here," he declared.

With very little time to waste, they ran back out the SUV and hastened to the next vacant property.

* * *

Cam white-knuckled the car's holy shit handle as Gibbs rocketed down the narrow backroad in the direction of the more distant houses. The trees outside the windows were nothing but a blur of green and brown and next to her, Agent McGee looked ready to puke.

She thanked any god that was listening for the existence of seat belts as hers stopped her from sailing over the seat and through the front windshield when the silver-haired NCIS agents braked suddenly in front of a distastefully painted rambler.

McGee practically fell out the door and rushed to catch up with the others. The agents drew their weapons.

"DiNozzo, McGee, around back. Go in on three," Gibbs ordered.

They checked every room, every nook, every cranny. All empty.

They rocketed to the next house at a speed which, Cam was certain, neared the speed of light. This one was dark, like the others, but the garage door was not fully shut. They had yet to hear from Booth and the others, leading them to believe that Holt and the women were still nowhere to be found.

McGee squatted and peered under the garage door.

"Boss! There's something parked inside!" he whisper-yelled. "I can't see what."

"Back door," Gibbs directed. "Same as before."

Cam followed him to the front door, watched his fingers count down from three. Then they entered.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Angela whispered.

Ziva nodded and gently probed the tender, bloodied flesh above her ear. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She could have made do with almost anything. But ANYTHING was the exact opposite of what the killer had left. He'd even taken their belts, their shoes, their jewelry. The syringe was too far away.

They could only watch, muscles tensed in preparation, as he at last pulled himself to his feet, his hands pressed to his undoubtedly painful ears.

"Oh, girls," he sighed. "I really don't like it when you fight me."

He spun, walked to the stairs, and disappeared behind them. When he returned, he was clutching a pipe and a coil of rope.

* * *

Oh yuck. I hate this chapter and it's really short but I really didn't want to take the time to rewrite it because I wanted to get you guys an update. Thanks for reading. I'm hoping to wrap this up in just a couple more chapters, so stay tuned!


	11. Chapter 11: The Drinks in the End

_"Oh, girls," he sighed. "I really don't like it when you fight me."_

_He spun, walked to the stairs, and disappeared behind them. When he returned, he was clutching a pipe and a coil of rope._

* * *

Holt set the pipe at his feet and slowly began uncoiling the rope.

"You know," he chuckled darkly, "I don't usually bludgeon my victims. Not really my MO. Course, you girls probably know that already."

A sizable portion of rope was now piled on the floor. Reaching into his back pocket, Holt cut the portion from the main coil, then repeated the process. Two victims. Two ropes.

"Still a little hazy there, Ziva?" He flashed a sickening smile. "No worries. I'll soon put you out of your misery."

Ziva narrowed her eyes. She could see blood dripping from Holt's left ear, and knew she wasn't the only one feeling hazy. As subtly as she could, she scratched the basement floor with her fingernail, hoping to attract Angela's attention.

Success. In her peripheral vision, Ziva caught the slightest hint of a head turn from the other woman. Slowly, the former Mossad agent twitched one finger, two, then three in a signal to move on the count of three.

As Holt stooped to reclaim the pipe, an unexpected crash echoed from upstairs, providing Ziva with the perfect opportunity to catch him off guard. When Holt's head jerked up towards the staircase, Ziva gave her whispered cue of 'three' to Angela and shoved herself away from the wall and towards Holt with as much strength as she could muster. She felt the arm still chained to the wall get yanked out of its socket and she bit back a cry of pain as her right leg swung out and knocked their captor off his feet.

He slammed into the floor with a grunt and Angela, to Ziva's surprise and delight, kicked her foot out and at his head. Her heel connected with his temple with a satisfying thud that knocked him unconscious just as the basement door crashed open above them.

* * *

Gibbs and Cam moved swiftly through the front door, clearing one side of the single story before reconvening with DiNozzo and McGee in front of the final door near the back of the house.

"Basement," Tony whispered unnecessarily.

Gibbs nodded, then rammed his shoulder into the door and swung his gun out in front of him.

"NCIS!"

The four came to a halt at the top of the stairs as they took in the scene before them. Angela was retracting her foot away from Holt's bloodied head. Both women were breathing heavily and their serial killer appeared to be unconscious.

The agents heaved sighs of relief and lowered their weapons as they descended the stairs. Gibbs tossed McGee the walkie.

"Call Booth. Tell 'im where we are," he ordered.

"Yes, Boss." McGee tossed a worried look towards Ziva and Angela and then jogged back up the stairs and outside to make the call.

Tony, Cam, and Gibbs rushed forward. The latter dragged Holt out of the way and cuffed his unconscious body. He deposited him in the corner of the basement and moved back over to the women on the floor.

Angela appeared more or less unharmed, save for some dirt and sweat and a couple bruises. Her unchained arm was wrapped around her stomach, but she didn't seem to be alarmed about the baby.

Ziva, on the other hand, looked much worse for the wear. Blood matter her dark hair and her likewise dirt- and sweat-streaked body was sprawled out and heaving with exhaustion.

Tony hovered over his partner feeling helpless as Cam quickly checked on Angela and her baby.

The artist simply waved her friend away in frustration.

"I'm fine. Cam, we're fine. Help Agent David." Cam nodded and moved over to Ziva, gently elbowing Tony aside. Gibbs took her place beside Angela and used his knife to free her wrist from the shackle.

"Don't get up," he ordered, and she acquiesced, leaning back against the wall.

"We'll need ambulances for both of them," Cam stated.

"I am fine," Ziva sighed. "I can walk. Unchain me."

They ignored her protest.

"But there's no cell reception," said Tony.

Cam shook her head. "Booth will have a satellite phone in his SUV." The doctor refocused her attention on Ziva, reaching out to gently prod the agent's bloodied temple.

Ziva waved her away with her good arm. "I am fine. Really. I have no immediate injuries." She attempted to use one arm to push herself up to a sitting position, but Tony reached out to stop her.

"Ziva, come on, you're hurt."

"Just unchain me. Please," she replied.

Gibbs sighed and stepped over the extended chain. Ziva couldn't help a pained hiss as her boss jammed his knife into the keyhole of the cuff and unchained her. Gibbs's mouth formed a thin line as he gently gripped her wrist and touched her visibly swollen shoulder.

"Dislocated," Cam observed.

Ziva huffed, frowned, and slowly disentangled herself from Gibbs's grasp, managing finally to pull herself up to a sitting position, with significant effort.

Cam winced, watching her. "We should try to get them upstairs, if we can."

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed. "We'll leave Holt. 'Til the ambulances come. I'll stay here-"

"Ange!" Hodgins interrupted suddenly, bounding down the stairs to reach his wife. "Angela!"

"Jack." Angela smiled in relief as her husband dropped to his knees and brought her to his chest as best he could.

"Oh my God, are you all right?" he cried.

"I'm fine, honey. The baby's fine. Help me up, okay?"

Booth, Brennan, and McGee appeared at the doorway. Gibbs gestured to Booth.

"Call for ambulances. Three. And make sure it's Bethesda."

"Got it," Booth said without protest, and left.

"Let's get these two upstairs," Gibbs ordered. "I'll handle Holt down here. Doubt he's waking up anytime soon."

Brennan, Cam, and Hodgins helped a weak Angela up the steps and out into the driveway, making her sit and rest in the NCIS Charger while they waited for the medics.

With a little more effort, and much to Ziva's chagrin, McGee helped lift the former assassin, who was still feeling some of the weakening effects of Holt's drugs, into Tony's arms, and then assisted them both up the basement stairs. Careful of Ziva's injuries, they, too, maneuvered out to the front of the house.

"Okay, Tony, now put me down," Ziva growled.

"Put you down where, Zee-vah?"

"On the _grass_, To-nee. I don't care. Just put me down."

"Fine, fine." Tony carried her to the other side of the Charger and Cam opened the door for him. He placed her inside, as gently as he could.

They had to wait another thirty minutes before the ambulances arrived, by which point Angela had drifted off to sleep and Holt had regained consciousness. Gibbs had dragged him out of the house not long after and the serial killer was now handcuffed to the porch railing, a heavy glare on his blood-streaked face. Ziva had also tried to sleep, but Cam adamantly refused to let her do so because of her likely concussion.

At last, the ambulances swung into the spacious driveway and Gibbs, Booth, and Tony directed the EMTs as needed. Hodgins joined Angela in her ambulance and Gibbs ordered Tony to accompany Ziva and McGee to go with Holt to keep him contained.

Booth took his remaining people and followed them to the hospital while Gibbs remained behind to secure the scene. Booth, Brennan, and McGee would rejoin him later.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

After a brief check over for both her and the baby, Angela was cleared to leave Bethesda. She and Hodgins took a taxi back to the Jeffersonian, where Angela lay down for a nap on her office couch with her head pillowed in her husband's lap.

Ziva was ordered to stay in hospital overnight for monitoring of her mild concussion. She got a sling and painkillers for her dislocated shoulder and was receiving an IV to help purge her of the paralytic second drug Holt had administered. And despite the doctor's gentle insistence after hearing the full story of Holt and the kidnappings, Ziva had strongly refused to speak to the "stupid in-hospital psychiatrist." They would let her tomorrow afternoon.

Holt was given only the minimum treatment he required while chained to the hospital bed under McGee's watch before an FBI car arrived to take him into official custody.

It was a week until both full teams met together again. They took up three tables at The Founding Fathers and everyone clutched the drink of their choice, save for Angela, who was sipping an ice water.

At one of the tables, Sweets, Daisy, Palmer, and his girlfriend Breena sat laughing and chatting lightly over beers and tequila shots. Next to them, Tony, Ziva, Hodgins, Angela, Abby, and McGee discussed science, old cases, Ziva and Angela's impressive take-down of Carl Holt, who now was destined to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. Ziva still grudgingly wore her sling, but she hadn't taken a single painkiller since she had been released from the hospital, asserting stubbornly that she didn't need them in spite of a hovering Tony and Abby's insistence.

At the last table, Gibbs, Ducky, Booth, Cam, and Brennan shared opinions and congratulations on the Holt case, occasionally pausing to listen to another of Dr. Mallard's crazy anecdotes. All of them were simply happy to have caught Holt and brought the murderer of the young women to justice. And to have made some new friends in the process.

Even Gibbs admitted reluctantly that he wouldn't mind working with Booth's team in the future.

But only if they had to, of course.

* * *

And that's it! I'm really sorry it took me so long to update this, guys. Life just got in the way I've been extremely busy for a number of reasons; and then of course, there were times when I just didn't feel like writing. But I'd really like to thank you all for your continued support with your reviews, follows, and favorites. So thank you. Very much. Also, this is definitely the last chapter, but I may smooth out a few things from earlier chapters in the coming days so just don't mind the random updates later unless you want to read it again. Thanks again for reading everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this, or liked it, at least.


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